


Stand By Me

by Guntz



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A Stark's Manual Guide to Parenthood, Angst and Porn, Avengers have issues, BAMF Reed Richards, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky is gay for Tony, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Comic Book Science, DILF Tony Stark, Everything is Reed's Fault, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kid!Steve & Kid!Bucky, M/M, Multi, Parent Tony Stark, Pining Bucky Barnes, Science Bros 2.0, Slow Build in Trust, Slow Build to Romance, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Time-Travel Alternate Reality, Tony-centric, recovering Bucky Barnes, unrequited stony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 93,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guntz/pseuds/Guntz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony had seen those eyes before. Had nightmares when he saw them staring down at him before they crashed their metal fist and Vibranium shield against his chest. Now, they were looking at him through watery tears as if he was the one who would bring them hope.</p><p>He was going to strangle Richards after this.</p><p>Or, Tony is 100% done with everyone and the universe, but everyone and the universe aren't done with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue of Parenthood

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reed Richards: Accidental Matchmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383766) by [Potrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix). 



> Thanks to the author, I've came up with this.
> 
> Enjoy!

It had been a shitty couple weeks.

Rhodey was still banged up, lying cold and nearly lifeless in the hospital bed. Ross was still breathing down his neck, no doubt pissed off about being hung dry while the prisoners had escaped from his unmarked and illegal prison that he had established in the butt-fuck of nowhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Pepper was far away from him, her personal touch in his home gone away with her voice and warmth. Vision was an unmoving thing that looked almost human, at a loss from being unable to connect with the one person he almost felt something for. People were crying for justice, were screaming and pointing fingers as their beloved heroes had cut themselves apart, fighting each other because one wanted to do right for the people... and the other wanted to do right by deciding for the people.

It was a really shitty couple weeks.

(Weeks where Tony spent sleepless nights, haunting the day hours by looking at the hospital security cams to see any update on good ol' Rhodey when he couldn't find himself to leave. A finger hovering over a sent button for a message he written for Pepper, but ended up erasing in the end because it felt too soon. Pretending not to the see the shadow by the window as he poured himself a cup of coffee before disappearing because what the hell could Tony Stark say to someone who sounded like his old AI?)

And now... 

Now he was the only person responding to a quick rescue operation. People coughing and choking from the black smoke everyone inhaled as they tried to escape the burning Baxter Building that was practically stationed next door to the Tower (not Avengers' Tower, not Avengers, not Team, not Home).

A great way to start off another shitty week.

He growled under the mask as he stomped his way through the inferno, kicking away debris to make a simple pathway for those who were still trapped inside. Like a dam breaking out, people flooded the hallways, following the path Iron Man made as fire-fighters sprayed them and the halls with cool water so as no one would catch fire. Getting passed the crowded halls and being reassured by a nearby fire-man that they had things covered, Tony forced open an elevator and his boots fired up with the thrusters to fly him up and up the building. Once he thought he was high enough, he aimed his repulsors to force the door open and was greeted by an explosion.

"Ow! Hot, hot, hot!" the engineer complained as he free-falled down the elevator to avoid being burned alive in his suit. Rhodey had told him it felt like being a human being dipped in boiling oil and just waiting to turn crispy.

"FRIDAY, remind me to do something about temperature nullification when we get back to the lab. Need to upgrade the suit for that."

Actually, there was a lot of upgrades he needed to do with the suits. Like, say, against flying Vibranium shields that some random enhanced soldier would bash against a suits arc reactor.

_"Sure thing, Boss."_

"'Atta girl."

Regaining balance from his fall, he zoomed up towards the open elevator and burst through the burning flames, taking in the huge room that served as a science lab. Honestly, the whole place wasn't that impressive, not like the one Tony had in his own building (especially that one that Bruce use to occupy where they would science together).

"Shit!" he jerked away from his spot, dodging a falling beam as it collapse from the room while crashing on dozens of expensive-looking equipment.

The engineer looked around, his vision made up of orange-red flames and black cloudy smoke that covered up the whole room. Withe FRIDAY quickly trying to scan for any life-signs, Tony pushed the volume of his voice modulator higher and called out.

"RICHARDS?! YOU IN HERE?!"

There was no answer, until something that sounded like a garbled cat answered him.

"Over here!"

 _"Boss! Behind you, near the sink!"_ the AI informed him.

He whipped around, his vision, with the help of the suit, clearing the way where he spotted three life-signs that were huddled up against the wall where there was a sink. The good doctor was actually smart enough to cover himself and whoever else in wet clothes over their heads and body to keep from getting overheated. The boots of his suit stomped their way through, pushing and firing away the debris that got in his way while clearing a path.

"Mr. Stark!" was the first thing that came out of that idiot Reed Richards when Tony crouched in front of him.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," from beneath the armor, Tony's brows scrunched up when he saw no one else besides Richards despite having read  _three_ life-signs. "Is there like some hidden passageway in this room I don't know about? I read two others with you in this room!"

At this, Richards, who was covered in a wet blanket (ha!), opened it enough to reveal what Tony had been looking for.

For the first time in awhile, the billionaire felt the air in his lungs escape him.

Tony had seen those eyes before. Had nightmares when he saw them staring down at him before they crashed their metal fist and Vibranium shield against his chest. Now, they were looking at him through watery tears as if he was the one who would bring them hope.

He was going to strangle Richards after this.

"I'll explain later! We have to get them out of here!" the doctor shook Tony out of his disbelieving stare at the tiny people in the man's arms.

"Buckle up, Geek Squad, we're flying out of this dump." 

Richards, much to Tony's disappointment, didn't rise for the bait of having his lab called a dump.

* * *

**WAKANDA**

Steve stared down at the blank page in his hands, still unused and unwritten.

What could he write to convey what he felt about the whole thing with the Accords, what he felt about what had happened between the Avengers... about what happened between him, Bucky, and Tony?

The blond let out a sigh of frustration, slumping over his desk as he felt himself grow equally tired from all that's happened. Honestly, if T'Challa hadn't offered him and his team of rogues a place of sanctuary, they all would have probably been holed up in some cramped up bunker with canned food and a single two bedroom with very little space. Steve had once experienced a time of tiny space with the Avengers before everything went to shit, there had been a lot of arguments and petty fights before Fury had let them loose (it had been some training exercise that he was pretty sure they all had failed).

Still, Steve thought as he rose up in his chair and stared at the blank letter in his hands, he wanted Tony to know something...

" _Steve_!" Sam's voice called from the long hallways of their borrowed rooms. "Steve, get in here!"

The frantic calling of his name alarmed him. Was Bucky having an episode before T'Challa's team were preparing to put him under? Steve was off his desk, out of his room, and in the main living room where most of everyone gathered in the shared apartment.

Bucky, one-armed and completely healed from the injuries Tony gave him, looked pale and shaken as he stood with his legs still brushing the couch behind him (he must have jumped up from it in shock), his eyes glued straight to the flat television screen. The other looked tense, like they were expecting him to lose his shit like he had in the German base when Zemo had set him loose after saying those damn trigger words that would get the Winter Soldier mindset back to a recovering Bucky.

The former Captain followed the sight of what spooked his best friend so badly.

Tony. Iron Man. Doing good and being a hero after a fire in Baxter Building (he heard Tony complain about a guy named Richards).

He looked good, even after Steve and Bucky had pummeled him and left him to freeze in the HYDRA base.

But then the more Steve stared, the more he realized something completely off about the picture in front of him.

Tony looked like he had a seen a ghost, sitting on the back of an ambulance with half of his suit gone from the waist up. And when Steve saw what was on his lap, he suddenly knew why the older man looked so dazed.

Steve. Tiny, sickly, choking, Steve Rogers sitting on Tony Stark's lap while wearing an oxygen mask that threatened to cover his whole face up.

The room grew much, _much_ colder when the camera turned to a disgruntled-looking man who was carrying a familiar-looking boy with dark hair and steel blue eyes in his arms, the little boy appearing incredibly confused and scared of where he was and what he was seeing despite the man's best effort to shield him away from the intrusive cameras and shouting reporters at the scene.

Whatever words Steve wanted to write, whatever meaning he wanted to convey in the letter he wanted to give to the man that he thought might understand an inkling of why he did the things he did despite the consequences, immediately burned whatever bridges the Super Soldier wanted to build.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, his so-called friend, just got personal.

"Sam, get T'Challa." the blond ordered, his voice leaving no room for nonsense. "I gotta make a call to Natasha and Sharon."

"What's going on...?" Scott asked hesitantly with his eyes flickering between everyone and the television.

"That's what we're going to find out." Steve answered coldly before leaving to his room, a crumpled blank paper clutched tightly in his fist.


	2. An Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some parents will tell their children that they were blessed... and some will straight-up tell them that they were an accident.
> 
> A cosmic, dimensional-proportioned accident.

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, (ex)playboy, philanthropist, and side-time hero, stared at Reed Richards in speechlessness.

"Okay, you lost me after you said  _you had this idea_ and—"

"Mr. Stark," Richards tried to protest, but Tony wasn't having none of it.

"Please, humor me," the engineer feigned a bright smile that contrasted deeply from the way his eyes glared murderously at the other man. "Start over."

They were inside a hospital cafeteria (Tony eyed the food with unveiled disdain because really, how could people eat that stuff? It was nasty hospital food!), waiting for some report by the doctors about the well-being of the two children they had found themselves responsible for. And yes, Tony was suddenly involved with Richards' problem because that guy, while brilliant (*snorts*), was awkward as fuck when it came to little children... not that Tony was any better. Sure, he had signed autographs and took pictures with kids, but other than that, he stayed clear away from their sticky fingers and loud volume in general.

It _really_ didn't help that those two children were the same people who had left him for dead in that Siberian base.

The same person who lied to him and the very same one who had killed his mother and father in the cold darkness of that one December night, forever altering his life with poisonous booze, loveless sex, and dirty deeds he'd rather keep locked tight behind his vault-of-a-mind.

Richards thankfully brought Tony back to track from those depressingly dark thoughts.

"About six years ago, SHIELD had contacted me because they wanted an input about something called the Tesseract."

"The one glowing Rubik's cube that Thor's brother had used to open a door to invite his frat boy party from space?"

"... Yeah. That one." Richards pulled off his glasses, pretending to clean them even as they were obviously cracked and beyond saving. "After New York and what transpired in D.C., I didn't have anything much to do."

Tony had to snort at that.

"But, after having studied the Tesseract, the idea of space-time doors just... stuck to me." Richards shrugged as he stared down the table like a chastised child.

"So you had this idea." the older man prompted.

"Yeah! I mean, think about it for a second! What if you had the power to get to places in an instance with just one step through a door? There's a medical emergency and time's ticking, just one step and you're in a hospital with medical staff on standby for arrival! Hell, you could use this as a way to make quick space travel possible, reaching to far-off planets within a few short seconds rather than dealing with long periods of time!"

Richards was so engrossed with what exciting implications his plans would grow to become, the prospect too incredible to keep contained to just himself, that the idiot failed to focus on the causes of his effects. Not to mention, the so-called SHIELD party that contacted Richards could have been working outside of Fury's jurisdiction, possibly leading the misguided lump sitting in front of him as a possible HYDRA scientist they could have recruited (and Richards would have been blissfully unaware of it all).

(Like a lamb unknowingly led into a den of wolves.)

"I had this idea to replicate the power of the Tesseract. Open one door and you can travel to a million more. Need to get to work without the hassle of the morning rush? Door opened. Need to get away from an abusive ex or away from possible danger? Door Opened." Tony caught the childish gleam coming from Richards' eyes as they had a dreamy look that made the engineer feel suddenly irritated. "And one day, maybe not too far, mankind could travel beyond the rings of our solar system. We could find a new system that could be habitable to colonize it and begin something new... probably something better than all the crazy that goes on here. Can you just imagine the ideas—"

"Yeah, well, your ideas suck ass." Tony was quick to interrupt before the idiot mad scientist traversed into Tony's  _things-he'd-rather-not-think-about_ world.

And just like that, it was like he popped Richards' happy bubble from simply opening his big mouth. That was mostly a talent Tony had developed ever since he learned how to speak.

(Ever since Howard would lock Tony out of his lab, forget his birthday, or even not acknowledge that his son was in the same room as him.)

Besides, somebody had to nip the bud before it spread across like an infestation and caught a hold of something that it would refuse to let go no matter how hard the person pulled. Honestly, had Richards been living under a rock when SHIELD was busy being invaded by a neo-nazi organization that was sitting under the nose of the whole world (and Nick Fury, the guy whose secrets had secrets?!) because Tony was sorely tempted to smack the guy up the head if it meant that some sense would come to the mad scientist.

"I get it." Tony told Richards when the man threw a grief-stricken face at the engineer. "Cool ideas for a cooler future. The whole Jetson scene where everyone is traveling through vacuum tubes and shit; but guess what? All ideas become some sort of weapon in the end. I mean, look what happened to me."

From that prime example of Iron Man's accomplishments (which was really a world-wide challenge to any big gun out there that could one-up on Tony's sleek titanium-alloy armor that had single-handedly destroyed a terrorist cell), what followed was a series of corporate explosions by someone he had thought of as a father-figure, rivals on the market trying and failing to replicate the suit, a guy who succeeded in replicating the arc reactor and attacking in the middle of a crowded event, some nobody who climbed his way on the top with the intention of getting back at Tony for making him wait on top of a roof during New Years, and then an AI gone Skynet by raising a city into the sky only to drop back down...

And then there was the most recent clusterfuck that was still spinning around in the multi-media network, leaving everyone scrambling around like a bunch of headless chickens.

Richards at least had the decency to wince.

"There you go. Now you're getting with the program." the older man leaned back in his seat.

"Mr. Stark?"

Both men looked up to find an approaching nurse, weaving through the tables to get to them. Giving Richards a look that said  _this conversation is not over_ , he stood up and met the nurse half-way while the other man trepidly followed after the engineer.

"How are they?" Tony asked, ignoring the anxious doctor standing next to him.

"The older boy is fine, it's the younger one we were more concerned about." the nurse told them. "There's also no medical record on the two children in the hospital database, so we were worried about what to stick the little guys without triggering any allergies they might have. Honest to God, if that little kid died because some idiot parent was afraid that a vaccination shot would give their kid autism, I would tie them to a chair to force them to watch Third World countries that have no medical help before I shoved a foot up their ass."

"Oh, wow. You go, Nurse Jackie." Tony applauded while Richards was left gaping at the seething petite woman.

"Anyway," the nurse tried to brush off her vehement declaration of children vaccination being a must need by focusing on the main issue to the two men before her. "If you can follow me, you can go ahead and check on the boys."

At this, Tony stiffened at the thought of being in the same room as  _them_.

"Uh," he flaked a little. "Is, uh, is that necessary? I mean, if you say they're okay then they must be okay. Doctors and nurses know best, so I think we're good here."

He was rambling, stalling himself from stepping into the same space as those two who would grow up and—

"Mr. Stark, they may be psychically fine at the moment, but emotionally," here the nurse paused, trying to find the right words. "They don't have anyone. There's nobody calling to claim missing children that were inside the Baxter Building, and everyone had been accounted for after the apartment sections have been cleared from the fire. Not to mention that the moment you were escorted out of the room after leaving the little one in our care, he broke down and wouldn't stop crying through the whole process while the other one just tried to curl up and turn invisible."

It took a surprisingly long while for the words to be carefully processed, comprehended, and then solidify itself boldly as an echo that mocked him through his eardrums (Also, a revelation as to why people gave him grief for having such loud music roaring from the speakers in his lab.).

It would have been easy for Tony to tell the doctors that those kids in particular won't have a simple pick-up from their parents when said parents had been dead for the past few decades. Horrible enough that the media saw the kids, and Tony hoped against hope that the watching audience behind their televisions and smartphones would dismiss the children's vintage-looking duds in favor of Iron Man just doing his job and saving babies (and dumbass scientists) from burning buildings. Better to let the hospital staff think they were dealing with a couple of orphans than nearly century old rugrats.

"You're all they've got."

As if sensing something was amiss, Richards gently patted Tony on the shoulder in concern.

"Mr. Stark?" the scientist spoke up, hoping to snap the older man out of his hypnotic staring at the wall behind the nurse's head. "Are you okay?"

Tony blinked a few times, coming (and crashing) back to earth before giving an awkward cough as he noticed the worried looks the two people with him gave.

"Right. Let's go see these kids."

And like a man walking the green mile, Tony followed the nurse with a calm mask on his face (—while his fragile heart threatened to send him into cardiac arrest, freeze the blood in his veins, and lock his mind in an endless nightmare where Steve did nothing to stop Barnes from crashing his metal hand into his chest and tear out what Tony had left to hold on for Steve and his  ~~friends~~ ).

* * *

The first thing he heard when he entered was the exhausted voice of a crying toddler.

Like they had been crying for  _hours_.

(Seriously, they could have conked the little guy out of commission to keep the brat of crying himself to a possible asthma attack—and shit, wasn't that fucking great? Not only was there a fun-sized version of the patriotic asshole, but the little Brooklyn scrap that was known as the throw-me-your-biggest-illnesses-known-to-man whisperer was vulnerable to whatever dust particles floating in the air. The Health Channel would have probably had a lot of fun documenting little Steve Roger's medical records to make themselves into millionaires if given the chance.)

"Hey," the nurse gently called out as she opened the door wider to allow Tony and Richards inside along (no matter how much both of them would rather exit the hospital and forget about the last 24 hours). "Look who came to visit you two."

Sitting on a hospital bed, looking laughably  _tiny as fuck_ , was the miniaturized version of ~~Captain America~~  Steve Rogers.

(The bed next to him was the ~~_Winter_~~ _ ~~Soldier~~  other boy_ _._ ) Tony did not bother to look on the other side, rather putting his attention directly towards the blond brat in front of him. The cheeks lacked the usual baby fat most toddlers that age had, but given how Steve had been born with such a sucky immune system, of course his body was going to try and feed off of whatever nutrients and fat it could get to keep the body living on just a little longer. God, Steve was so scrawny that it actually kind of hurt to imagine bigger kids knocking around the little squirt.

But, as much as Tony kinda felt bad for him, he was not touching that kid with a ten foot pole. The little guy was covered in tears and mucus from all the fussing he was making (and of course little Steve had a good reason to cry. He was once again torn away from all that he knew: his mom, his life in old Brooklyn, the absent noise that New York now had, and just everything so familiar now so terrifying for him. History repeating history.).

No wonder Howard didn't like to hold Tony for too long when he was a brat himself.

The sniffling blue-eyed boy looked past the nurse until they quickly locked onto Tony's form, and to the surprise of the adults of the room, the tiny thing let out a pathetic sob before raising his arms in a universal gesture that said:  _ **PICK ME UP!!!**_

 "Uh..." Tony waved a hand at the kid's tiny grabby-hands. "I think he's calling for you, Nurse Jackie."

The nurse raised a dark brow at him. "I believe he's directing it to you, Mr. Stark."

 _Nopenopenope_!

The sniffling mini-me began to bawl out again with a vengeance, wiggling under the covers of the bed where Tony could spot where his tiny feet poked against the covers of the bed. God, that kid's crying was beginning to grate his poor ears.

"Stark, just pick him up." Richards said, the man looking through the open door to see some passerby's giving them judging looks (the unhelpful coward). 

"Can't you just shoot him up with the good stuff, nurse?" Tony tried again.

"You want me to give a toddler happy drugs to keep him chill?" her eyebrow was almost disappearing into her hairline.

"You are the most useless bedside nurse I have ever known. Nurse Jackie, you're fired."

"Mmhm," the petite woman stepped aside to walk out the room. "Make sure not to drop him, Mr. Stark."

"Fuck," Tony cursed under his breath as the nurse left him alone with a useless twit and a crying national icon.

Richards looked at the door. "Um, maybe I should—"

Before the scientist knew what happened, his front shirt was roughly brunched up so high that he had to force himself to stand on his toes. Richards opened his mouth to protest against the manhandling then promptly clacked his jaws shut once he saw the deadly look coming over Tony's face. His dark eyes alit with fury that Richards found himself shrinking under the man's death glare.

"You, Richards, are going to be sticking around for all the fun bits 'cause I  _sure_   _as fuck_ am not going through this hell alone! You brought this down on me then you're gonna fucking go down _with me_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scientific and Medical jargon are not my forte, forgive me!


	3. Concept(ion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ideal possibility...

"Mr. Stark."

"Jesus Christ!" Tony nearly leapt out of his skin when the red-faced android appeared out of nowhere (possibly through a wall). "Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?!"

"That was not my intention. I apologize if I came across as someone who was attempting to bring more stress upon yo—"

"Hey, forget it happened. Nothing happened. No heart-attack caused by some wall-phasing android." Tony waved his hand as if physically wiping away Vision's apologies. "What's on your mind?"

The impossibly cybernetic blue lenses that were his eyes focused on the two new faces that had arrived yesterday morning from within an inconspicuous black SUV, along with a man that looked like he had been tugged around by his hands with his feet dragging along the ground if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Vision easily recalled a Dr. Reed Richards from JARVIS' databanks, reflecting on several old video cameras the former AI had used to watch Sir complain and snark about the other man. From what he could tell, Tony wasn't all that fond of the other man, believing him to be a nuisance in the science community with his whimsical ideas...

And yet the scientist that was accompanying the engineer was helping him transfer delicate cargo without being spotted by anyone who was Stark Industries or former SHIELD agents to the upper floors of the Tower.

"Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes." Vision said as he stared down at the two toddlers sitting docile on the couches the penthouse provided. "The ones we know, yet not."

The android could hear Tony snort in thinly-veiled contempt.

"Why are they here?" Vision asked as he turned to the other two men.

"See, that's what we're trying to fix." Richards explained to the android, looking a little uncertain as he spoke to sentinel-being but going with the flow. "I'm going to replicate what I did when I created the faux-Tesseract."

"Yeah, no, bad idea." Tony shook his head as he strode over to the kitchen to find himself a glass of crushed ice.

He was exhausted to the bone, for once wanting to take a quick shower before hopping into his bed (his empty bed where her warmth no longer filled his nose with her remaining perfume). On second thought, it was probably better to sleep on the couch that was in his lab, better to keep close to his work place so he could started than spend hours upon hours trying to fall asleep when all he could think about how he fucked up big time with Pepper.

It was a miracle they even lasted this long together before she finally called it quits and returned to California.

"This isn't Monster's Inc., Wazowski. You can't just open a door and send them on their way because for all you know, it won't be the same door you opened the first time. You could be sending them off in another alternate reality or universe, or whatever the fuck is out there, and mess everything up that it would cause a divergence."

Richards didn't deflate from the _all hope is lost_ air that Tony was giving off. The man flicked his green hazel orbs towards the sentinel that was currently kneeling in front of the couch where little Steve was curiously tracing his tiny fingers over the red being's hairline. When the tot's fingers came close to brushing the gem located on the forehead, the android gently grabbed Steve's wandering hand and placed them back on his lap.

"I was hoping that Vision could help me out on that part." the scientist said.

Tony paused, quickly and carefully thinking back to his words that somehow implied that he told Richards about Vision's abilities (or more importantly, the cosmic gem that looked like some fancy-looking forehead jewelry on the android).

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, his voice casual but his body in full alert.

The scientist blinked before awkwardly gesturing between Vision and the two children. "If he could tell that they're not from this reality and time, then maybe he could help me track down the right door that they had originally came from."

 _Oh_.

Oh, God, that was a little embarrassing. Tony pushed more crushed ice into his mouth, if only to save face for a few more seconds before he came up with new ammunition to tear through Richards from that tiny slip-up.

"You up for it, V?" Tony asked.

"Of course. Whatever I can do to assist, I will be content to oblige." Vision consented with a graceful nod towards the suddenly flustered Richards.

"T-thank you."

It would probably do the droid some good rather than haunting a window, floating over a city in brooding silence, or sadly interacting with Dum-E and the other bots in Tony's lab. The closest to happy was when big red was hanging out with Wanda, feeling some sort of connection that didn't require witchcraft or wifi... And of course all happy beginnings ended when Tony had to play the devil's advocate when it came to appeasing the UN while wanting to pay back the due the entire world deserved because of the Avenger's dirty business (exhibit a) New York, exhibit b) Sokovia).

"Might as well order some better parts from whatever crap company sent you the materials to create your DeLorean," Tony clapped his hands once he finished his cup of crushed ice and dropped the cup into the sink. "Because this time, we're pimping out this DMC-12."

His motivational declaration to get the whole gig started ended with a  ~~squeal~~ yelp when he felt something tug on his lower pants that he had to stop himself reflexively delivering a kick to whatever was grabbing him. He immediately looked down to find himself staring at the achingly similar green-blue eyes that had haunted him day and night for the past few weeks.

"What the fuck?" he wheezed out, having held his breath the whole time when he made eye-contact with the snot-nosed little twerp. "How the hell did you get all the way over here without anyone noticing?!"

"I actually saw him looking about, so I allowed him to wander." Vision unhelpfully supplied, ever so calm and quaint that Tony seriously wanted to throw his glass at him.

"Jewsh." the mini-me said.

"I'm actually an atheist. I mean, sure, there's Thor and Loki, and fuck knows what else, but pretty much an all-around atheist." Tony told the kid... who probably didn't get 90% of the words coming out of the engineer's mouth.

"Jewsh!" the booger-faced brat said again.

"Look, I'm an atheist, kid. Sure, when I born, I was Christian, but I stopped believing when I learned what God was at seven-years-old. So, no. I'm not Jewish."

" _Jewsh_!" the little scamp insisted.

Tony felt like he was seconds away from pulling his hair out.

"I think he's saying juice." Richards said when he came around the kitchen table, looking down at little Steve.

"Jewsh, jewsh, jewsh!" the tiny blond agreed, hopping excitedly at the mention of his expectant juice.

"They probably been feeding the kid apple juice from the hospital." Tony observed warily before heading towards the fridge. "FRI, we got any juice?"

_"No, boss."_

"Of course we don't." Tony slammed the fridge closed.

 _"Would you like me to order in young children's snacks and beverages?"_ the AI asked.

"You're awesome FRI, never let anyone say you aren't walk away alive."

 _"Sure thing, boss!"_ her voice chirped.

He hadn't heard her speak in that tone for so long. Not since after the Accords... or maybe after Pepper had left him. She was still a little new, like a young woman entering a work force that demanded all her attention and best skills she could offer. But she was doing her damn best despite not being the voice Tony had always expected to follow him throughout his entire life and maybe to his deathbed. 

"Wait, maybe we should include clothes for them, too." Richards added, looking between Tony and the ceiling (the same action that Thor, Clint, and Ste—).

"Yeah, why not. Just not too much, they're not gonna be stickin' around this place for long." Tony assented. "Speaking of which, let's get started on going over the list we need to get your magical portal of paradise opened."

Richards kind of stuttered, flushing at the innuendo but not having the guts to snark back (which was boring, because the others had always fought back with witty words of their own. Now they just _fought_ ).

"Stark?" Vision's inquiry of his name made Tony pause.

"Yeah?"

"What of the young Steven and James?"

He looked over at the tyke that struggled to crawl down the little stairs to the kitchen, putting one foot in front of the other cautiously with his hands holding the edge of one high step for support.

(He still didn't want to look at who was sitting on his couch, just a few feet away.)

"Time for your next lesson on human interactions: baby-sitting." Tony threw Vision a million-watt smile. "Your trial begins now!"

"U-uhh! Tony, I don't think—" Richards raised his voice in protest, but once again, he was easily silenced when his body was forcefully turned towards the elevator's direction and then promptly pushed inside it.

"That's okay Richie! I'll do the thinkin' and you just do the do!"

Vision watched the two men exit the area, Richards throwing worrying faces over his shoulders as he eyed the two children. Little Steven was giving frantic huffs, trying to hurry down the short steps so he could follow after Stark, small sounds of distress escaping the small, frail child. The other boy, Vision observed, watched the retreating backs of the two men with despair, looking to sink further in the great big, luxurious couch set that Stark set up in the penthouse in a poor attempt to phase inside it (as far as Vision knew, he was the only who could do that).

The android had seen the expression on both their faces before: the day after he had been born and had barely escaped the descending city with Wanda wrapped firmly in his arms.

Wanda looked lost, like a missing limb suddenly cut off from her, an extension of herself for her entire life just _torn_ out that she literally screamed at the sky and fell to her knees as if something had forcefully ripped a piece out of her because of it. Sharing the same womb, sharing the same crib, sharing the same toys, room, meals, and love before weapons and destruction had taken away their warmth and comfort. She survived because of her brother, and now she was drifting without him.

Probably drifting now, wherever she was.

But she had Vision.

And then Vision didn't have her.

It was like that now, when he watched the boys look at the elevator door where Stark had disappeared. He supposed now that he wasn't the only one who was feeling just as lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT!!! PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> Does anybody know about legal justice system/politics and all that? 'Cause I sure don't, I am completely brain-dead when it comes to those two particular subjects that surround the area with intellectual smack-talk hidden behind words and subliminal world destroying of your legal life. If anyone can take the moment to PM (private message) me in fanfiction account, please contact me because I got questions and I need help to further to plot of this story. If no one can PM, then... I guess you have to prepare for spoilers, even if I ask readers not to read the comment section.


	4. Concept(ion) II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... with a disastrous result.

All in all, getting everything set up in his lab and going over how to re-create the whole faux-Tesseract was the most productive thing that Tony had ever done in  _months_. It wasn't like working with Bruce (because Bruce had his dry humor to make Tony want to reward the man with more blueberry gummies), but it was so good to talk to someone that understood his second language while it left other peoples head's spinning most of the time when trying to make sense of the jargon filtering out of the engineer's mouth.

But his trying efforts always ended when Vision, via psychic channeling that made his voice filter through FRIDAY's speakers (the first time it happened, Tony wondered if it had been JARVIS coming back online), would ask him to stop what he was doing and meet him in the main penthouse.

Tony was sure that he and Richards would have had this project finished in no time from within a week had Vision not kept interrupting their work periodically.

"Now what?" the engineer grumbled as he pulled off his welding gloves and slammed them on the worktable. "I'm trying to turn this junk into a working platform and all I ever hear half the time is this guy needing me to entertain those brats! There's a reason why he's the baby-sitter: to keep them busy while  _I'm_ busy!"

Richards pulled back his welding mask, tired and sweaty from doing his fair share of setting up the massive platform. "We should just go ahead and do as he says before FRIDAY locks out the coffee machine."

FRIDAY and Vision tag-teaming against you was like asking for a death sentence.

The moment the lab doors opened up, it was like unleashing a tidal wave of tiny creatures that stumbled in and latched themselves onto Tony's legs. The older man flinched when the two children clung onto him, feeling his poor heart jump a mile high before dropping back down to its place like some flattened pancake. The android, meanwhile, gracefully walked inside the lab as his eyes scanned the scattered arrays that Tony and Richards were building to replicate the platform from Richards' lab. Tony was seriously tempted to throw something at the android, if only to make the red-faced robot stop moving from place to place like he was a graceful bird gliding across the floor.

"No munchkins allowed in the lab." Tony glowered at Vision, growing increasingly irritated by the toddlers pawing at his legs. "I'm busy. I told you, you just have to remember to feed the kids every three hours and make sure they don't have accidents in their pants. You remember the potty training thing FRIDAY told you about?"

"They wanted to see you," Vision said, voice unflinching and eyes unyielding when they gazed at the engineer.

DUM-E, along with U and Butterfingers, made curious sounds at the sight of the two toddlers in the lab. Hearing them, the boys looked from beyond Tony's feet to spot the three bots at their respective charging stations. Seeing that they got the attention of the tiny Brooklyn Twins, DUM-E was the first to react by pulling out a hidden tennis ball he had stashed away (Tony let the bots have their own toys), placing it on the floor, and then nudging it towards the children. The blond walked around Tony's leg, crouched to the floor to easily catch the rolling ball in his open tiny hands, and stood up while eyeing the item in his hand. He tilted his head back, eyes catching Tony's while waving the neon ball for all to see.

"Okay. Cool. Nice catch, but he's gonna want that ball, so roll it back to him before he tramples you." Tony told the little boy.

Thinking that his words would be ignored (and really, that should be a no brainer after everything that had happened), the tyke surprisingly heeded his words. Awkwardly pulling his arm back, the toddler threw the ball—which went completely off from DUM-E's direction. The tennis ball bounced towards the far side of the lab, and Tony let out a sigh of relief when the two children and bots (because U and Butterfingers wanted to join in on the fun) chased after the neon sphere.

"Just make sure not to run them over, guys." Tony ordered the trio of bots that were quickly occupying the attention of the two brats. "Fuck, we need to get this built soon. I can't take anymore sticky-fingered babies and their flowing mucus."

He shuddered from the mental image.

"It took me several months to get the project done, so I'd say we're going pretty fast." Richards remarked as he took a sip of cool water.

"Of course you took a long ass time. You're not exactly made out of money, and from what I heard, Doom threatened to cut off most of your funding sponsors." Tony snorted as he leaned against a table, taking a cool cup of water of his own.

"That, he wasn't trying-I mean, he was just worried about the direction of the project..." Richards fumbled, helplessly looking elsewhere but Tony's face.

"Oh really?" the engineer scoffed. "Someday Richards, that little nice-guy attitude is gonna come back to bite you in the ass. Has been biting you in the ass for the past several years, in fact."

When nothing more was said from the other, Tony looked away from him and focused back on the bots and kids. They were still throwing the tennis ball around, like a herd of hyperactive dogs chasing the ball after whoever threw it. DUM-E, the clumsy one, showed an amazing amount of tactics in preventing himself from running over the toddlers. Thank God, he really didn't want to be alarmed when the children started shrieking with how many times their little toes got ran over by the heavy weight of— _yikes_ , probably better put a stop to it now.

"Hey, kids, back to your stations! Play time's over!" he barked at the group, all of them freezing when they heard his assertive voice.

All three bots physically wilted at his orders but followed them, DUM-E woefully trudging away from the tiny humans that had briefly occupied his attention, returning to his sad little corner where his sad little charging station sat. Honestly, DUM-E should be rewarded for his accurate mimicking skills in how to be a sad child who was told by a parent to go inside his room and not play with his new friends.

Unfortunately, that meant he had the attention of the little rugrats.

"Jesus," Tony muttered under his breath as they once again surrounded his legs.

"Shall we take the time to make a meal?" Vision spoke up, having been nothing but a silent sentinel the entire time, his eyes always on the look out for the children.

A grumble from Richards and himself erupted almost simultaneously, Tony glared down at his lower torso, betrayed by his body. That answered Vision's question. Besides, FRIDAY had been getting supplies of children's snacks discretely, Tony still not wanting to risk attention that he was currently child-rearing with Richards, not wanting to give any asshole an opportunity to do whatever they wanted with vulnerable kids. Beside that, Vision would probably put something in the food by mistake that would result in accidental food poisoning.

"How does spaghetti and meatballs sound to you boogers?" Tony rhetorically asked, eyeing the clingy little blond boy.

The answer came in an enthusiastic cheer.

(It almost made Tony break into a smile.  _Almost_.)

* * *

Richards made _awesome_ meatballs.

"You should have been a chef." Tony said as he used his fork to cut his meatball in half and pluck one side to put in his mouth full of noodles.

"That's what Ben tells me," Richards grinned from across the table, helping the dark-haired  _ ~~murderer~~_ ~~~~boy with his meatballs. The other junior was standing on Vision's lap, clumsily using his plastic fork (FRIDAY referred from the child minding books that toddlers needed plastic utensils to keep from harming themselves accidentally). Vision carefully guided his tiny hands to scoop up the spaghetti carefully despite the small fuss the midget was making in trying to do everything by himself.

It was messy eating with a bunch of toddlers, and Tony thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't the one doing the work. It was all Richards' fault anyway, so it made perfect sense for him to be the one doing the babysitting, but he was needed for building the machine. Still, Tony thought as he glanced at Richards digging into his own plate, the engineer wondered how to convince Richards into becoming his personal chef when he was in the mood for delicious spaghetti and meatballs. This stuff was the absolute bomb.

He also wondered if he should bribe the younger scientist, helping him with his funds in order for Richards to continue whatever research he was working on after sending the ancient duo home to their original timeline. That sounded right, food in exchange for large quantities of money. Everybody loved money.

(At least for awhile, they did.)

The mood only got lighter because the hospital gave a notification during Richards and Vision's cooking that Rhodey was awake. FRIDAY immediately connected Tony to Rhodey, a nurse kindly setting up a Starkpad for the injured man before leaving the room to give them some privacy. Bruised, broken, and tired, the pilot exchanged words with Tony so easily like he hadn't just fallen out of the sky and crashed to the ground in a bloody heap of metal. Tony's eyes burned as he heard his best friend's voice reach his ears, heart racing then calming and then racing again because  _"oh my God, Rhodey, I thought I lost you, too_ " and _"they said it would take longer for you to wake up because of how high you fell, I was so fucking scared"_.

Rhodey just gave him a look that said that he wanted to reach beyond the surface of tablet and cuff Tony by the ears.

"It would take a lot more than that to kill me, Tones."

And that's when their conversation took an interesting turn.

The kids were _loud_. And Rhodey heard them.

"Get better first, then we can talk. I promise." Tony could only say to him.

The man shook his head (as best he could anyway, he was wearing a brace), thinking that of course Tony would get himself into a situation that involved people being absent for a few short minutes before the engineer got dragged into some crazy harebrained scheme. It was Tony Stark's style.

 _"Boss,"_ FRIDAY's voice alerted them.

"Yes, dear?" Tony twirled his fork around, pulling it up to his open mouth.

 _"There's someone on the line for you."_ FRIDAY said, her voice absent with vigor that had been making itself known for the past few days, setting up a few red flags in Tony's mind.

Vision was staring directly at Tony, his face stoic as the marble statues in the local museums, but his neutral expression was enough to tell Tony that whoever was on the other line was someone the engineer would not like to hear from. Richards looked between them, quickly realizing there was something wrong. Even the kids sensed something amiss, the little scrap on Vision's lap curiously tapping the android's maroon cheeks, silently asking what was wrong.

"I'll be back," Tony said, standing from his stool on the kitchen island, making towards a private room.

Once far away enough, Tony pulled out his phone, waiting only a second for FRIDAY to send it through. The phone clicked.

"Stark," he said.

A pause.

**"Tony."**

Ice replaced the air that seemingly vanished from Tony's lungs, his nose flaring sharply at the soft voice on the other end of the line.

"Widow."

She had gone underground, getting off the grid and staying the hell away after her parting words with Tony.

(Watch your back, Tony, otherwise you'll find a knife digging into your spine.)

 **"Tony, what are you doing?"** her voice fills his ears, and why did his chest feel to hear her again?

_'She knew, too. She was there. With Steve. She knew.'_

**"Tony?"**

"I'm wearing my flying undersuit, and I'm sitting on my bed. Alone. What are you wearing, Widow?" 

Sarcasm was the body's natural defense against—why oh why did every word turn to "against" and "opposed" and "they" and "Widow"? Why was the fight always coming? Whywhy _why_?

**"What are you doing with those kids, Tony?"**

The accusation directed at him, the way he could imagine her eyes narrowed dangerously as if she wanted to be in the same room as him, wanting to twist his wrist and threaten to break it because all she could think was of him. Him and those children. Children who were of  _them_. The two people that continued to slam their fists and shield at him, a double attack that he barely was able to fight off by himself. Of course. Of course she would think— _they would think you would hurt little children out of hate_.

"Wow. Not the first time someone called me a child-murdering bastard who was too busy with his inflated ego and money-making business to realize where his weapons were going. Thanks for reaffirming everyone's faith in me, Widow."

He didn't bother hiding his anger, letting her feel every snarling bite coming out of his mouth. He wished he could see her face-to-face through the phone, just to let her see him with his still bruised face morphing into something ugly aimed  _right at her_.

**"I didn't say—"**

"You don't have to say it. I can practically hear your wild imagination dripping from behind your lovely pearly whites." Tony hissed in the ear piece of his phone. "Fuck off, Widow."

"Well, that's not very nice." a jovial voice came from behind him, startling Tony.

Whirling around to the source, standing in the middle of the room was Scott Lang, all geared up in his suit and stupid helmet. The other man flicked his mask open, giving a condescending wave towards Tony, a smug smirk plastered on his face. Why the hell didn't FRIDAY say something. Unless...

"Gotta tell you, wasn't exactly easy getting through your AI's defenses. Thankfully, Carter and Romanoff know what they're doing when it comes to breaking into your tower, kind of makes me look like an amateur in comparison." the idiot paused, eyes glazing over as he thought over his words. "Which, kinda makes me, uh, sound like I actually enjoy doing criminal stuff. Which I don't. Really."

"Do yourself a favor and shut up." Tony said, giving Lang a deadpan look.

It took a second for everything to click and for him to finally react. His former teammates were here. Inside the Tower. Trying, and failing, to shake off the foreboding fear overcoming him, Tony looked through the glass doors to find Vision, Richards, and the brat pack nowhere to be found. Heart leaping up his throat, Tony broke into a run to the living room, ignoring Lang. Shit, shit, _shit_ Richards was just some idiot about to be caught up with Tony's own bullshit mess, he didn't deserve to get whatever punishment the guys were dishing out on him. Just as he ran out of the private room, a body slammed into his own, causing him to fly a couple of feet before harshly colliding to the ground. The air got knocked out of his lungs with a huff, he heard footsteps thudding behind him before he was forcefully yanked onto his feet and in mid-air.

And there he was. There he stood, after many weeks of separation, there was big Steve Rogers in all his righteous glory.

Then he was flying back again, landing on the coffee table and feeling it collapse under his weight. Instead of Rogers straddling him, there was the one-armed bastard that took everything from him. Fury bright in his eyes, Tony's head was forcefully slammed back, a single flesh hand wrapped around his throat and tightening itself every second. Feebly, he scratched and punched and kicked his feet wildly, but it was no use against an angry super soldier, Barnes teeth gritting as he squeezed his windpipe, threatening to snap his neck.

(Funny ain't it, Tony? He did that to her, too.)

With one last slam of his head to the floor beneath him, darkness embraced him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed in the tags, I've changed it from Steve/Tony/Bucky to just Bucky/Tony. Let's be honest, after CW, I've just had enough of Tony getting fucked over by people who he initially thought were his friends, Steve especially. Natasha is the next person I would put high on the list because she, too, knew about the implications of Bucky being part of the Stark assassination, but said nothing (and probably because she was hoping Steve would come out clean with Steve or she too thought it would spare Tony).
> 
> Clint should have known better when he came back, Wanda should have stayed where she was because there was no telling what the public could have done, goddamn Lang should have especially butted out because he didn't know shit what was going except what he was told (and it didn't help that Pym was prejudice against Tony), Sam was following along because I think he got in over his head about his admiration with Steve to notice what was going on.
> 
> The story is gonna be a lot angstier than I originally intended. It's not gonna turn into a bashing because I really don't like those, but if you see hints of it, I apologize in advance. I also hate the fact that in most post-CW fics, Tony is ALWAYS the one who has to be the one reaching out to Steve, Tony has to be the guy to admit first he was wrong, and that the Accords are messed up. I really hate those fics because people forget that Tony had been practically thrown under the bus most of his life and career as a superhero. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy are like the only people who he trusts not to stab him in the back, but that's gotta be some hardcore faith after what happened between him and his Obie.
> 
> So yeah, that's really what I wanted to say about this: Steve/Tony is no more.


	5. Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children should never fight (the same applies to adults).  
> An Interlude

Everything was loud and noisy, and it was scary, too.

He was eating his food, it was long so the red man had to help cut some of the longer ones otherwise he wouldn't be able to swallow it right. He tried to do it by himself, but he only got messier and it only made the red man have to help him more. The nice other mister was helping his friend with his own food.

It tasted good. Really good. Sometimes the food he ate weren't so good because the nunnies at the big house would say that God didn't want His children to be hungry, but there wasn't a lot for him or anyone else to eat. It was bread and cheese and milk, and eating that stuff made him feel sick a lot. The nunnies were worried about him a lot, keeping him inside so he won't catch the sandy dust that kept blowing outside, but he wished he could go out and play with the others. Even his friend got to play outside.

This food was the best. The nice mister and the nice red man made it just for all of them. He wanted the red man to eat some because it was really good, but the red man probably didn't like the stuff. He felt warm and full when the food was swallowed, feeling his tummy get better, and he really liked his apple juice, too. Apple juice was his favorite because he was starting to get tired of drinking milk all the time.

The nice metal man stood up and left them after the voice said stuff. He always tried to find the voice, but there was no one there. Maybe an angel was talking to the metal man? And that was so swell, wasn't it? The nice metal man could fly, and the nice metal man helped him breath better than he had ever, and the nice metal man gave him clothes that didn't have holes or dirt or itch kind of funny, and the nice metal man was just so nice to him. The nunnies always said that nice people are the best people, and boy were they right.

And then the red man stood up, putting him down because the doors from the far side of the room opened and a lady in red walked inside. The nice mister put his friend on the ground too before he stood up, but then he fell down like something hit him hard. And he didn't get back up.

Then all of a sudden there was a lot of noise like when the others would accidentally break stuff and get a what for by the nunnies. But it was louder, and then there was screaming. He didn't hear so good, but that sort of screaming was ugly and loud and it scared him and his friend. Then a man found him, a different man that wasn't the nice red man, or the nice mister, or the nice metal man.

His friend was crying, folding himself like a kick ball, and he cried a lot louder when he got picked up off the floor. 

He tried to run away, but his feet tripped him. Hands grabbed him by his under arms and picked him up, he kicked his legs but they still didn't let him go. That's when he saw the nice metal man run out of where he came from, only for a big man with hair like him push him to the ground. He felt something inside him hurt when he saw the big man pick up the nice metal man, only to throw him again.

Then another big man came. He had only one arm and long dark hair, but he went and squished the nice metal man. The big man was strong, and he wished that the nice metal man would fly away again so the big man wouldn't hurt him, but nothing happened.

The nice metal man wasn't moving. 

He wasn't waving his arms, he wasn't wiggling his legs, and he wasn't pushing the big man off him. The big man with one arm was a lot stronger, pushing away another man who had darker skin than anybody else's.

He had to help the nice metal man because the metal man helped him first!

The arm wrapped around him wouldn't let him go, though. The other people who came were pushing the other nice mister and the red man was in a red shower with a lady with scary glowey eyes. His friend was still crying 'cuz he was scared of everything. He didn't like people touching him, not if they were the nice mister, the nice red man, or the nice metal man.

"Bucky! BUCKY _STOP_! YOU'LL KILL STARK!"

"Steve!"

"Okay, Buck. That's enough! Get off him, we didn't come to kill him!"

That was a bad word. The pastor at the big house he and his friend stayed at said killing was bad, and when you did bad things, you went to a bad place. Bad stuff was gonna happen to the metal man, but he wasn't gonna let that happen.

" _Agh_! _Motherfu_ —!"

He easily slipped away from biting the man in purple, heading straight for the big man hurting the nice metal man. He stumbled, tripping over the stairs, but barely avoiding hands reaching for him. It hurt, he wanted to cry, and he already could feel tears, but he kept going until he grabbed the big man's shirt and  _pulled_.

" _NO_!" he screamed with all his might. "NO!"

He pounded his hands against the man, pushing and pulling at his shirt, scratching him and screaming at him to stop hurting the nice metal man. Somebody grabbed him again, but he kicked and screamed until the big man with one arm finally got off of the nice metal man. He scratched at the hands holding him, hearing them hiss before they released him so he could go closer to the nice metal man. He tripped again, falling over the nice metal man, but he stayed there because that way they won't hurt the nice metal man.

"Hey," someone said behind him, their hands touching his back. "Come on, let's get you up."

" _NO_!" he slapped their hands away, not moving from his spot.

The nice metal man looked like he fell asleep, but he saw the red stuff coming out of his head. He was scared. So, so scared right now. He wanted the nice metal man to wake up and fly again because he was so scared that he won't anymore because of the red stuff. He had seen the red stuff when he fell and scratched his knees and hands, and it always scared him and he cried sometimes. The nunnies would tell him it wasn't so bad. But this was bad. This looked really, _really_ bad.

"Steve? Steve, buddy, look at me?"

He turned around, and there was the big man that pushed the nice metal man to the ground twice. He was looking at him, his hands reaching for him—

"NO! NO!" he yelled, his chest hurting again like the times he couldn't breath and he had to stay inside the big house.

The big people were so awful. They were scaring and hurting and being bad. The nice mister was on the floor, the red man wasn't able to move from the red stuff all over him, and the nice metal man was hurting bad. There was a word he learned after he told the nunnies when he saw some girls pushing another girl around for no reason, when they were mean to her when she cried for her doll that they stole.

"Stevie, just get him so we can go!" the big man with one arm said.

With the other big man reaching for him again, wanting to take him away from all the nice people where he had lots of fun with the things that moved, and where he could hear the angel talking to him and his friend, and where he could see funny pictures moving on the big window in the wall, and where he was full from whatever he ate, and where he was happy with the nice metal man that flew him in the sky and helped him breath.

He remembered the word the nunnies said about bad people who made others get hurt because they were bigger and thought they could do whatever.

" _BULLY_!"


	6. Time-Out Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Go into that corner and think about what you've done!"
> 
> If only it were that easy.

It was familiar.

The way he remembered it, through the fog of violence and frost and blood, he saw a little boy taking on kids half his height and weight. Swinging his arms wildly, his tiny fists barely doing much against the other kids' thick skins. Before the little scrap knew it, he was down on the floor with one mean sucker punch to the face, nose like a fountain from the blood pouring out of it. Then in he ran, crashing into the back of one kid and knocking him flat off his feet. He swung his arms around, fist hitting harder against open stomachs and surprised faces. After that, they ran with tails between their legs.

He turned around to help the little guy, but the blond kid was already on his feet and pulling up his fists, ready for another round despite him looking like he was gonna fall over if the wind blew by them.

"Whoa, whoa! I'm on your side, buddy!" he raised his hands, taking a step back away from the kid.

"I didn't need the help! I had it handled!" the boy snapped, bright eyes glaring at him with suspicion.

"Oh, yeah," he couldn't help snorting, looking where the kids had run off. "You really had 'em by the ropes, champ."

"I didn't need the help!" he repeated, his voice coming out stronger from the unintended jab.

Without a word, the kid turned away from him, quickly gathered his coat and hurried off without saying anything to him. He stood there, miffed and irritated at getting brushed off by the little scamp, but he didn't bother the kid anymore. He had to get home to his ma, she was cooking something nice for him and his sisters.

Next day at school, there's the same stubborn kid from yesterday... and he was taking on a bunch of bigger boys. Middle schoolers.

And like before, he propelled himself into the fight of three big boys against one little guy. It took a minute for a teacher to run out and yank the kids apart, her voice screeching at each of them while reprimanding the kids who did nothing but cheer and watch the whole thing go on. Bucky and the kid were black and blue, though the little guy next to him had it worse, while the big kids only got small split lips and dust on their clothes. Another teacher came in to haul the older boys away, so it left him and the blond scrap.

"Steven Rogers, what am I going to do with you? That's the third time this week!" the teacher told the little boy, pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to clean the blood off. "No more fighting, you silly boy."

"I'm not fighting 'cause I want to!" he snapped, voice breathless.

"Then what are you fighting for?"

"I was fighting 'cause they were bullies! Pushing some little kid around, tossin' him like he was a doll. He was crying, but they still kept doing it! He couldn't even get up!"

"You should've run to the teachers," he spoke up for the first time, staring at Steve Rogers. "You shouldn't have taken on someone bigger and stronger than you. What if something scary had happened because no one was there to save _you_?"

Steve furrowed his brows and raised his chin defiantly. "Just because it's scary, just because it's some bigger guy, and just because I'm not strong doesn't mean I'll stand by and watch someone hurt another person. I won't let some bully push another person, not if I'm around to stop it!"

It was familiar, Bucky thought as he stared down at the tiny (so _tiny_ ) boy, that little Steve Rogers was always going to come in and take on a bigger bully way out of his league.

But the thing was...

Those eyes, those eyes reserved for people who picked on others in the school hallways, people who harassed others for looking different or talking another language, people who preached judgement against a race for their religion, people who took advantage of others through means of operating under the disguise of keeping their country safe, those eyes were looking at _him_ and _Steve_ as they shielded an unconscious Tony Stark.

Bucky had been prepared to go in and out. Images of tiny, frightened, and vulnerable children under the thumb of one angry Tony Stark had kept Bucky awake in the darkest of nights. What was he going to do to them? Was he hitting them? Was he taking his frustrations and hate on the boy who would grow up to kill his parents? Was he bashing his fist against the soft bones of a sick boy for keeping him from hurting the other boy? Bucky could hear the voices of the two children taunting him, their shrill screams of mercy falling on deaf ears as the man continued his punishment for things they had no control over. He wasn't alone in his thoughts, either. Steve's face was tight with barely restrained control, knuckled pale from gripping on the steering handles of the jet they stole from T'Challa (the man wanted to call Stark first, but they couldn't wait because by that time Stark would have—).

Except, that wasn't the case.

Lang had gave them an opening after Carter and the Widow had did their best to take down Stark's AI. Bucky followed closely, barely flinching when the Maximoff girl quickly occupied the flying android, subduing him before he had a chance to open his mouth and speak. The other, a civilian, went down after Barton easily shot a taser dart at him before he went for the kids. 

But Bucky wasn't satisfied with that. Something familiar started to make its way towards him, something feral and viscous exploded that the noise and the blur was drowned out because all he was focused on was Tony Stark sprinting into his line of vision. He felt dark satisfaction when Steve threw Stark down on his coffee table, but that even was enough. No, in order to make sure he never went after them again...

Everything was dark and red from there, his fingers cutting off air and crushing the man beneath him who struggled so pathetically under his hold. He ignored the people who were trying to yank him off Stark, not hearing Steve's call for cease of his actions No more being hunted, no more being hurt, no more—

"NO! _NO_!" a little voice screamed in his ear, suddenly grounding him when his mind had been sky high in the black of space.

Little Steve had jumped him, tearing and screaming in Bucky's ear, his watery eyes furious with rage unlike Bucky had ever seen in a toddler. But they beckoned something familiar, he couldn't place it where, though. The little tyke crawled over Stark's head, slapping away Barton's and Steve's hands when they made to grab for him.

"Stevie, just get him so we can go!" Bucky demanded, trying to shake away that ugly feeling he tried to not let overwhelm him.

Then the little boy called them something that shook Bucky and Steve to their very core;

" _BULLY_!"

It felt like being punched in the gut, if how the way Steve stumbled away was anything to go by. Bucky felt his face lose its color, the frosty air he was terrified of every time he closed his eyes coming over him, feeling sick that this boy, who he was more familiar with than the man beside him, would give him such an ugly look.

Little Steve's arms were wrapped protectively around Stark's face, using his own body as a small means of protecting the unconscious adult. All the while, the little boy glared up at them, willing to fight against two super soldiers and a group of enhanced or armed individuals if he had to. The other boy, the younger Bucky still in Barton's arms, was still crying.

And that's when it came to him.

The boys weren't bloody and bruised, they weren't left in their own waste or mess, and they weren't being tortured like he had almost convinced himself they were. With a new sense of horrifying clarity of the situation, they were dressed in clothes: little colorful Polo shirts and a T-shirt with cartoon faces plastered, wool socks to keep their little toes warm, and faces messy with what looked like tomato sauce. They weren't afraid because of Stark and his cohorts hurting them, they were terrified because of a bunch of strangers barging in and attacking the adults that had been taking care of them.

"... oh, God." Bucky muttered to himself.

(But he deserved that, didn't he? After everything he did, Bucky deserved it.)

"Please stop," a voice begged. Reed Richards, the guy on the television screen who was spotted hanging around with Stark, looking at them with pleading eyes. "Please don't hurt him, not in front of the kids. Jesus Christ, just _stop_...!"

"What were you doing with these kids?" Steve demanded, eyes locked on the younger Steve. He didn't try to reach for the kid again.

Before Richards could say anything, the Widow and Carter rushed inside from the staircase and froze at the scene before them. The Widow cursed as she rushed past them and fell on her knees next to Stark; Sam shook off Steve's hold of his arm when he had been trying to tackle Bucky off the engineer, easily falling next to the Widow, helping push away the glass that shattered beneath his head whilst ignoring the little boy that glared at them with such fierceness.

"Jesus, Steve! _What the hell_?!" she snapped, tossing them a look over her shoulders.

"You can thank both Steve  _and_ Bucky." Sam muttered, pulling his hand away, which was covered in blood. "He needs to go to the hospital. I think he's got a concussion."

"Yeah, that was a little over kill...!" Lang looked pale from where he stood, eyes wide and aghast of witnessing Bucky nearly choke Stark to death.

"I..." Bucky stepped away, feeling like he was going to throw up (but he had nothing in his stomach, too scared to eat because he thought, because he imagined Stark—).

"Let's go." Barton said, voice neutral as he adjusted his hold on the small boy in his arms. "We need to leave. Stark's buddies can take care of things here."

_"No need, Mr. Barton."_

All of a sudden, four quinjets surrounded the tower, the weapons aimed at them. Everyone froze, eyes locked on the windows.

"How the hell did the Taskforce get here so fast?" Lang asked, eyes on the quinjets.

"After most of the former Avengers dispersed, Mr. Stark believed it would be wise to upgrade security measures of the Tower in case of future break-ins. Sad to say, Mr. Stark had every reason to feel right about his assumptions on all of you." the android said, eyes locked on the Maximoff girl who stiffened under his gaze. "There's nowhere for you to run."

 _"Steve Rogers and company, by authority of the Sokovia Accords, you are all under arrest!"_  the AI announced, voice harsh as they came back online.

Not long, men in black gear appeared with weapons trained on them. Maximoff's arms fell to her sides, watching silently as Vision stood from the ground and took the cuffs of one officer nearby and locking the reinforced shackles on her wrists before leading her away. The same followed with the others, Sam quietly informing one of them that Stark needed immediate medical attention. Bucky didn't fight the harsh feel of hands on him, blindly following the others as they were lead to prison.

He looked back, and sure enough, little Steve Rogers was watching them go with eyes still accusing him.

(Why was he surprised? The future wasn't so kind, of course it would make sense for his past to reject him as well.)

* * *

"I hope you all had a very nice vacation from where ever the hell you came. I truly mean that because from here on out, it's going to be nothing but an utter shitfest."

Everett Ross sure did not like to sugar coat words.

With Tony in medical, and the kids not in the same building as them, the wayward group were left inside a prison cell (thankfully, not the RAFT). Vision was still there, ready to subdue Wanda if she tried anything. Everett was sitting on a desk placed comically outside of their large prison cell, and Richards sitting across from them, nervously shifting in his seat. Steve stood in front of the bars that was close to Everett and Richards, the rest loitering across the cell. Bucky was sitting in the farthest corner, body hunched over like he was trying to disappear into a wall...

"So, to clear the big elephant in the room." Everett looked straight at Richards. "What are you and Stark doing playing Little House on the Prairie with two children?"

The question garnered a lot of attention. Steve leaned against the bars, wanting to hear the explanation of the how's and why's.

"And before you try to bullshit your way through this, know that I have many witnesses and strong evidence against you about those two kids not existing in the data records. Just so you know, doctor."

Richards bowed his head, letting a tired sigh. "It's hard to explain, but after that whole thing with Stark... shit, he didn't deserve that. I owe him this."

"Doctor," Natasha softly urged.

"Couple years ago, SHIELD had come to me with the Tesseract." Richards began. "Stark suspected that because this operation hadn't reached higher ups or even been mentioned in SHIELD record files, that this was a HYDRA experiment I must have been collaborating on without my notice."

"Shit..." 

"After Thor had taken the artifact off planet, I was still fascinated by the idea of potential fast travel via portals, so I was left experimenting with what could pass as something close to the Tesseract."

"Then your building exploded." Lang reminded the doctor.

Richards tossed him an annoyed look. "It was an experiment, okay! Experiments on creating portals from thin air aren't exactly stable!"

"Yikes," Lang inched away, folding himself on his bench next to Sam.

"Anyway," the doctor continued, voice a little clipped. "Before the explosion, the portal opened up for a short moment. That's when stuff got a little tricky."

"Tricky, how?"

"Tricky as in, two toddler versions of our national icon and his war buddy from their timeline accidentally just walked right into our timeline."

There was a pause.

"Stark had nothing to do with it?" Bucky's voice was soft, sounded so weak, like all the breath in his lungs was squeezed right out of him.

Richard shook his head. " _I_ was the one who made this mess, not Mr. Stark. He was helping me find a way to send those kids back home where they belonged."

Steve closed his eyes, head pressing against the cold iron bars. All those days holding that fear, that time where they had nightmarish visions of Tony doing horrible things, all of it coming out untrue. Steve thumped his head against the bars, thumping it harder for every time he dismissed T'Challa and Natasha's words, their doubts about Tony doing something so horrible because that just wasn't Tony's style.

But here they are, another decision that made things worse because Steve had to run first instead of think. Tony was in a hospital because of him, he had been thrown around and choked by both him and Bucky, and it took a little version of himself to snap them out of it.

It took little Steve Rogers to call them out what they really are to realize the consequences of their actions.

A guard walks in the room, walking straight for Everett and Richards. The man bends down, voice low, but Steve and Bucky could hear him just fine. Little Steve was throwing a tantrum, tossing juice boxes at people's heads because he didn't want to deal with anymore strangers. With that Everett dismissed Richards, allowing the man to follow the guard in a brisk pace to reach the boy and calm his crying fury.

Nobody felt like talking for awhile, and Steve felt all his strength and pent up energy finally exhaust itself with the day's crazy events.

"So, now what?" Clint finally asked. "Gonna finally sic Secretary Ross on our ass? Send us all packing to the RAFT?"

Wanda leaned closer to the archer, eyes haunted at the thought of returning to the straight jacket and shock collar wrapped around her neck. She remembered how the guards would purposely shock her, laughing inside their security rooms as they gave in to the temptation of torturing her under the false claims that she was trying to use her powers.

"That would be easy," Everett nodded, reclining back on his chair. "Unfortunately, the RAFT is under investigation."

Sharon, also locked up with them, looked just as surprised. She had been working closely with the Taskforce, but even some big stuff slipped by her. That was probably because they suspected (correctly) that she had close ties with Steve and his company, so of course the smart thing to do was not keep her informed about certain things.

"What does that mean, sir?" Sharon asked.

"It means Stark had been getting people to question why someone like General Ross is promoted as Secretary given his history with Dr. Banner, an enhanced individual." Everett raised a brow at them, kicking up a leg on the desk and intertwining his fingers across his stomach. "The RAFT is an unsanctioned prison, something the UN had no idea of. You were suppose to go through trial before a judge, not end up in there. That had no part in the Accords. Which begs the questions: what is Ross doing in the Sokovian Accords if he's not following with the program he helped contributed?"

A heavy silence followed after them. Natasha eyed Clint, the man ducked his head, pulling Wanda closer to him so her head was tucked under his chin. Sam let out a sigh, thumping his head back against the wall behind him, Lang simply twiddled with his fingers, eyes to his feet.


	7. Boo Boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is so much hurt a band-aid can't hold it back.

Reed felt like he had aged ten years in the span of a few days.

With Stark's former teammates locked in the cell block building of the large Avenger's facility, the Taskforce made themselves comfortable by occupying the private establishment. Besides, Stark had personally saw to the construction of the cell block, enforced enough that even the Hulk would take hours upon hours to break his way out (apparently, it was enough time for Dr. Bruce Banner to come back to his senses). It was impressive, but it was a bit daunting to be surrounded by multiple military men in their gear, guns on their person which made him and the kids nervous.

Speaking of which, he felt his heart sink when little James tucked his head on his shoulders, sniffling and exhausted from crying and hopelessly scared witless from the day before yesterday's break-in that left him more clingier than usual. Little Steve kept pacing around the room, throwing a tantrum now and then against the guards that came in the room they were left in, sobbing against Reed's pants one moment then shrieking and banging against the door the next. He felt for the boy, mind anxious at the news about Stark.

And then there was the guilt that shredded him to pieces. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't fucked around with his science project, the kids would be safe and away from this crazy timeline that they walked in on, and Tony Stark wouldn't possibly be in a coma if Reed hadn't dragged him into his mess. The billionaire was busy with his own problems, problems involving the political world and the drop of his stock market in his own company, and there was also the fact around his troublesome relationship with girlfriend, CEO Virginia Potts. Reed didn't even want to think about the ex-teammates' beef with Stark

Reed could almost see Ben shaking his head at him, giving him a pointed look that said he needed to get off his ass and do something because thus far, Stark had been the only one seeming to do all the work.

_gurgle..._

But first, he had to get something for the kids to eat.

Sitting up from the chair he claimed in the room, Reed settled little James before going to the door (no reason to put the poor kid up close with another stranger he would perceive as a threat), avoiding little Steve's constant banging on the lower section of the door he felt imprisoned in, Reed knocked on the door, letting the guard outside know he was coming out. Again, mindful of the little boy close to his long legs, Reed poked his head out where one guard was look straight at him, somewhat short and leaning a little on the young side (at least a couple years for Reed).

"Problem?" the guard ask, eyeing little Steve who was also poking his head out and glaring at the man.

"They're hungry. I'm just going to take them to the kitchen to make something for them. It's been a long day."

"Okay," the guard stood up straight, his gloved hand reaching for his comm. "What do the kids feel like eating? We'll bring it over."

... Not what he was expecting.

"Hey, I mean I want to take them out of the room and into the kitchen. They're getting stir crazy in here, they need to walk around, too." Reed tried again.

The guard just stared at him.

_"Someday Richards, that little nice-guy attitude is gonna come back to bite you in the ass."_

Looking ready to shoot down his request, Reed opened the door wide enough to straighten his posture and give the guard an unflinching and aggravated look that was emphasized by the midget standing in front of his legs, still giving the guard the stink eye with an adorable scowl to match. Seeing the geared man's face scrunch with an air of uncertainty, Reed went in for the kill of the small moment of weakness.

"You really want to keep a kid whose done nothing but bite your men's fingers and left most of you half deaf in the ears from his screaming when we can just simply walk into a readily available kitchen with unnecessary issues?"

Reed gave the guard a challenging look, daring him to refuse him again else he would face the wrath of the tiny toddler who looked willing to go through another round of harassing the people guarding them.

"I trust you know your way around the compound, sir?" the guard stepped away, making path for the doctor.

Oh, so that's what it felt like...

No wonder Stark like to throw quips at him, it was kind of an entertaining thing to watch when the man backed off at the mere thought of taking on a little toddler that was quickly making a name for himself amongst the Taskforce.

Reed swore that the moment Stark woke up, he was going to tell him this story for the guy to laugh about. He'd probably like that.

"Come on, guys," he waved a hand to little James, prompting the dark-haired boy to climb down from his seat to follow him.

Reed led the two boys down the hall, following FRIDAY's directions until he found a wide open area that was a living room with an upper floor that lead to a kitchen. The interior design looked so expensive and shiny, Reed was afraid he or the children could accidentally break something if they made the wrong move, but food was more important than the nice-looking decor of the living room area. Calmly watching the kids climb the stairs with careful supervision (they wanted to do it by themselves, so he climbed the stairs behind them), the boys made it up and toddled straight straight for the big metal box that held food.

"Anybody up for tuna sandwiches?"

* * *

 "Incoming call, sir."

Everett looked up from the tablet he was going over, watching news feed of pedestrians from below the Tower filming the spectacle that occurred many stories above them, a small spread of panic blustering with media networks: all of them questioning just what the hell was Stark up to. Sitting on a borrowed desk in one of the many offices of the Avenger's facility, Everett was left with the tedious task of getting a report ready to forward to, however, a Taskforce agent had briskly walked inside the room with a cell in his hand. Everett took it and pressed the speaker button while settling it down on the surface of the desk.

**"Everett."**

Well, god _damn_. 

"Secretary Ross," he greeted, voice smooth and unhurried.

**"Where's Stark? He's not answering."**

"You call and he doesn't answer, you mean."

Everett had watched Ross rise to power, his charisma cajoling many ignorant and easily nervous people with distrust against the unusual and abnormal bringing about the concerns of the majority of the people in power, which of course was lead straight into the circle of the UN. With the late King of Wakanda and Tony Stark, the creation of the Accords was something of a possibility that could benefit both sides, yet there was a great big problem: Ross landing himself as Secretary. People had to be living under a rock not to know the turbulent relationship Ross had against the missing Dr. Bruce Banner, and his place in the Accords was probably what fueled majority of the Avengers to disintegrate. It didn't help that Zemo added more gasoline to the already burning inferno that was being dubbed the superhero "civil war".

Right now, the people sitting in that cell in the building next to him were kept under quiet surveillance. Vision was attentive as ever, not letting anything out of his sight as he had when the young witch had been under house arrest after the clusterfuck in Lagos. Everett knew through reports that the android could have done a lot more damage in the tower to subdue the rogues, but because of the children, he had to force himself back or else create potential danger and harm to the boys.

He still couldn't digest the words Dr. Richards relayed to him, the toddlers being midget Captain America and Bucky Barnes from literally almost a hundred years ago. Honestly, this was sounding more and more like something out of a ridiculous comic book story, the whole science fiction fiasco with it.

Everett would have to omit any mention of them... along with the rogue Avengers. There was obvious distrust and apprehension between the two parties (and no shit, he had literally watched a team of medical carry Stark off into the quinjet after his _reunion_ with his former teammates), but that was none of his fucking business because there was bigger fish to worry about: such as the prick on the other line of the phone.

 **"What the hell is going on that you're not telling me?"** Ross demanded, voice forceful like he was holding onto the phone in a vice-tight grip.

"Stark is in medical at the current moment, we're handling it." 

**"That's not what I asked, Everett."**

"There's a multitude of things you can be asking me in the question, Secretary. Didn't you call to inquire about Stark's health? Did you want know that the problem was successfully neutralized and dealt with? Throw me a bone, here..."

Stark wasn't the only one who could give the old general some lip.

Whatever beef between the superheroes Everett honestly didn't care, that was their shit to mash out, he was not a fucking couple's counselor; he was here to do his job: keep people in line, in check, and make sure normal civvies didn't come between battles with enhanced individuals and falling buildings. So as much as it would have been easy to get these guys thrown in jail, Ross had his dirty fingers, nose, eyes, and ears almost everywhere. Stark warned Everett about this shit, warned him how Ross could turn the tables on people if given the opportunity and right ammunition, just make things more of a mess than giving it a chance to settle and work.

If Ross knew that the Avengers, the missing half of the broken team, was in their custody, standing in American soil, the bastard would play on the fears of the politicians. These guys, with the golden boy at the forefront, had practically flipped them and the UN the finger as a refusal to yield under the Accords. This would lead to Ross' words gaining enough support from others that these so-called heroes would find themselves sentenced back into the RAFT (and God forbid they actually sanction that place) which would gradually become a place where they would become nothing but lab rats. Hey, with the super soldier serum (and two of them at that) in the palm of his hands, Ross had jurisdiction to do whatever the hell he wanted. The rest, he would probably have them put down like dogs.

And Everett had no idea whatever would happen should word get out that a young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were also in their custody.

Ross was one thing Everett could handle, but with a recovering Rhodes who most likely caught wind of Stark's MIA status, it wouldn't take long for the man, paralyzed or not, to come knocking down doors in search of his friend. God, this whole situation sounded like it was going to lead him into more paperwork when this entire bullshit was done and over with.

Stark had better wake the fuck up, and soon, too!

* * *

"Hey."

"..."

"Hey."

"..."

" _Heeyy_."

"..."

Lang glared at the guards.

"You seriously gonna let me go to the bathroom in here?"

"Knock it off, tic-tac." 

"No, seriously! I have to _go_!" Lang hissed, holding the bars of the cell. "Look, I'm not even in my suit! Just take me to the bathroom! Hey, hey I'm warning you, I will freaking pee on you!"

One guard scoffed. "You threatening us? With  _pee_?"

"I'm about to piss myself here, what more do I got to lose?" Lang challenged.

"Your dignity." Clint griped, glaring at the back of Lang's head.

While that was going on, Steve's eyes trailed over to the quiet form of Vision. Feet a couple inches off the ground, the android kept his unblinking eyes straight towards them. He never talked, and he caught Wanda stealing glances at Vision before bowing her head, barely containing the shame on her face. Wanda had been like a quiet spirit in the apartments back in Wakanda, eyes watching the fog roll through the giant city, barely eating a few bites of her food, and becoming recluse, even from Clint. He sometimes found Lang looking at his cellphone, a picture of a tiny girl with a few missing teeth and dark hair and eyes staring cheerily up at him, a glazed over look coming over the man's eyes, and Clint would busy himself in looking after Wanda (probably to replace the missing children he had to leave behind in the safety of a farmland). Sam exercised and poked a few jabs at Bucky, developing a mutual frenemy relationship, and he would sometimes talk with Steve when they would stare into the night from a balcony, listening to the nocturne insects as the street lights below were colorful with life and activity.

(Tony would have probably loved the view.)

"Hey," Steve blinked, looking up from his place on the floor, finding Sharon sitting on a bench close to him. 

"Hey," he greeted, voice low.

Sharon looked past him and he followed her gaze to find Bucky, his back still turned to him and everyone, huddled in a corner and far away from everyone, never saying a word even from Steve's prompting. He hadn't even touched his food (water bottle and a packaged deli sandwich, these guards weren't total asshats). There really was no doubt from most of the people here that they were in the wrong in barging in on Tony, all of them so hyped up with their grudges and fear created by him and Bucky that it became anticlimactic because of something that wasn't even real.

Natasha even wouldn't look at him, upset with herself that she let this go too far which resulted in Tony's injury. Natasha had once warned him that if Steve went in ahead of himself without proof and evidence that he was going to get himself into more trouble, but Steve... once he saw Tony, he couldn't think anymore. It was like back in Siberia, inside the cold bunker, Tony hunting Bucky relentlessly and shooting repulsor beams to kill the man who he saw murdered his mother so viciously—Steve swallowed thickly, closing his eyes to bring back the painful image of Tony's face shaking and shattering as Steve said that, "yes", he figured Bucky played a part in killing Howard and his wife.

So when he saw Tony run out, all Steve could remember just how ugly and vicious Tony was willing to get in order to murder his best friend, his best friend who was trying his best to step away from the colossal shadow that was the fearsome Winter Soldier, his best friend who was doing his best to be normal again.

"I think," Sharon spoke up, eyes trained on the guards. "I think they're keeping this quiet. I think Ross still doesn't know we're here."

Steve straightened in his seat, recalling the lack of action, the guards keeping them fed and well-maintained. There was no mention of Ross coming to pay a visit, so that left them in a state of limbo.

"A coup d'état." Natasha said, voice quiet enough not to break the banter between Lang and the two guards. There was no doubt Vision was listening, but he did nothing to cease their talks, so that meant it was a safe enough topic for them to discuss. "Stark was in the middle of getting Ross kicked off—"

"But then we just made it a lot harder with our untimely arrival." Steve finished, letting out a sigh as he let his head fall forward.

"Everett is _good_ , but not that good." Sharon said. "If Stark doesn't wake up soon, then Ross will come sniffing around and find out what's going on."

"Shit..."

There was a tick in Natasha's jaw, and it made Steve shrink at the disappointment radiating off of her. She didn't have to say it, but he knew that he greatly disappointed her.

The doors suddenly opened, startling them as it had broke a ruckus. Everyone watched as Everett walked in, flanked by more geared men as he came to stand in front of the entrance of the cell, causing everyone to watch warily.

"Alright, let's keep it simple. Great as it is to keep you all locked up in one place, I can't exactly keep you all locked up here for reasons which I won't explain, but I don't doubt you haven't already guessed," he gave Natasha a knowing look. "We'll be putting you all under house arrest. So, up and in a single file, kiddies."

They all stared at him like he was a maniac that spoke gibberish.

"Oh, don't worry. Taskforce locked up and enforced a lot places in the living compound, and Stark's AI, lovely girl, was accommodating enough in how to make it much more secure for you losers. So, let's go people! Up an' at 'em!" he clapped, cajoling them.

"Will there be a bathroom?" Lang asked as he was the first to be yanked out of the cell, the same guard who scoffed at him earlier easily shackling him.

Vision once again served as an escort to Wanda while a couple of heavily armed mean stepped up and guided Steve and Bucky. When they came close to the exit of the cell block building, they were forced to stop as they were told to put on some uniform that looked almost like the Taskforce.

Satellite images, Steve guessed.

They entered the living area and the place looked definitely enforced as Everett had said. FRIDAY knew what she was doing, had a long time to get familiar with the Avengers, which was unfortunate as she now served as a means to know how to keep them locked tight without the building being obviously perceived as a prison. The guards finally backed off, letting the team slowly wander around. Wanda perked up, eyes looking at the upper floor.

"The doctor and the children are here, too." she said out loud, notifying the others.

Everett looked up then back towards them. "I trust you won't pull another stunt with him and the boys?"

Steve glared at the smaller man, incensed by the implications but deeply ashamed from his hasty actions. He could only imagine just how terrified those two children were after witnessing something as two men ganging up on one defenseless man.

(If you think about it, it wasn't all that different from that time in Siberia, wasn't it?)

"That won't happen, sir." Vision declared, putting his laser focused eyes on Steve with a warning in his tone. "Isn't that right?"

"... right."

And with that, they were left alone with other guests also inhabiting the compound alongside them.

This was going to be tough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, wow. There was a lot bashing comments in the previous chapter. Seriously, angry people. I mean, I feel pretty upset myself about Team Cap, just not that far. Yikes!


	8. Boo Boo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can kiss it, but it still won't make it better.

Reed felt a sense of déjà vu standing in the middle of a kitchen, his mind going faraway in memory lane after FRIDAY informed him of the fugitives now housed in the same vicinity as him. It was back in college, he was in a fraternity house that he was able to afford, but he stood terrified of the dozens of big, brawny roommates that were housed in along with him. He also remembered the hazing, the humiliation rituals, and the bruises and tears that followed afterwards. The boys in the fraternity house would taunt him, dare him into calling his parents to pick him because he was being a total pussy against their rough-housing.

(Did rough-housing include leaving someone tied inside a freezing pool for hours that they had to be hospitalized because of pneumonia? Was that suppose to be boys being boys?)

He can still feel the electrical sensation dancing through his nerves and spine, barely keeping himself conscious as the pain left him shaking and helpless.

If only Everett would allow him and the boys to return back to the Tower, but because there was a lot of attention directed at the building with no signs of Tony Stark responding at the call of his own company or any news media wanting to get a direct answer, people were left guessing up in the air of what the hell was going on, so that was out. Besides, if anyone with a camera saw him and the kids, people would get nosy and ask why the boys that had been rescued over a week ago were still in the custody of Stark and him.

What a clusterfuck this was.

"Hey," a voice jolted Reed, spooking the two boys as well.

Who he saw standing at the other end of the kitchen made his blood run cold. A tiny distressed cry escaped from little James who wasted no time in scrambling off the kitchen island and ducking under the safety of the dinner table that had a small forest of legs to keep him safe from anyone wanting to snatch him up again. Little Steve was not far behind the other boy, tripping and taking a small tumble but crawling until he reached the table and joined his pal. Places like that were a safe zone to kids, beside closets and beneath beds.

Reed could almost hear little James' quiet sobs from beneath the dark oak table, hiccups from his intake of breath and drawn out cries that were alarmingly silent. That was the thing about little James, Reed had noticed from spending time with the boy, how the toddler kept to himself that it was a bit unnerving. Stark hadn't noticed (and how could he? Too busy wanting to get the machine set up and running to finally send the kids back home), often paying little attention to the children that surrounded him when they joined Vision in entertaining the boys. Little James was almost always quiet. Whereas little Steve was being loud and somewhat bold in his demands, little James was withdrawn and incredibly shy. Like any kid who had done middle school history, he remembered watching old propaganda reels of the war, the black and white films of Captain America and Bucky Barnes always looking proud and determined to put an end to HYDRA and other regiments belonging to the Axis force.

Their childhood together was printed in the textbooks, people saying how both boys were rowdy kids... except this was nothing like in the text books.

There was something wrong with that little boy, Reed was certain. In fact, now that he thought about it a little more, something wasn't quite adding up when it came to the curious case of the two children from the other side of time.

"I didn't mean to scare them."

Reed blinked, mentally punching himself for momentarily forgetting the behemoth standing at the other end of the kitchen. Good God, Steve Rogers was huge that the place Reed was standing in looked kind of small from just the man walking in.

"I... I'm sorry about what happened, Dr. Richards. That shouldn't have happened." Rogers looked sincere in his apology, but Reed still wasn't going to approach the guy without at least some safety measures.

"You sure I'm the one you want to apologize to?"

When Reed would fall asleep in the chair, letting the boys have the bed to themselves, he would see flashes of that day in the lounging area. Stark running out to be ambushed by a charging Rogers who quickly yanked him in the air before throwing him around again. It was so terrifying, seeing someone being tossed around like a chew toy while the men with superhuman strength were able to easily put down the engineer like it wasn't even an effort on their part. In the nightmares, Reed would try to scream but nothing came out; and in the nightmares, little Steve was pulled away from Barnes as the man kept choking on Stark who went deathly still.

He was never going to ever forget how close he came to screaming himself awake because of how scared he was.

Rogers ducked his head, chewing on his lips as he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets.

"Tony has a way of getting people to react, unintentional or not." Rogers said after awhile of silence, eyes trailing over to where the kids were hiding.

Reed swallowed, his voice suddenly dry. "You mean like accusing him of hurting helpless children?"

And when Rogers turned to him, his eyes locked on the doctor, Reed suddenly realized why the hell Stark was so jumpy around the boys.

Little Steve Rogers was going to grow up to be  _this_ man one day, he was going to get rejected multiple times from joining the army because of his health issues, he was going to be recruited into the SSR to become the first super soldier to fight for the American Army and her Allies, he was going to be a symbol that (mostly) brought down HYDRA, and he would go under ice only to awaken when the world was attacked by aliens, further cementing his legendary status.

And little Steve Rogers would one day grow up to turn into a man who fought against the people who he stood beside, the civil war between heroes leaving everything torn and broken.

And every waking day, every passing hour, every single moment, Tony Stark had to find himself looking at this little boy who was going to do just that.

... which made Reed wonder why Stark never _ever_ looked at little James Buchanan Barnes. Stark's body going taut like he was holding himself back when the dark-haired boy touched him, like he wanted to jump out of his own skin.

(What did the Winter Soldier do to you, Stark?)

"I may not know him," Reed found his voice, breathing steady as he returned the man's stare. "I may not know Stark, but... but I know for  _goddamn_ sure he would NEVER hurt those kids because of you. Whatever it is between you guys, he would never—"

He stopped because it was getting too much for him, the memory still too fresh behind his closed eyelids. Stark and Rogers were no longer allies, no longer the heroes that would stand beside each other like they had in New York, but the fight between them stayed between them. It never strayed off, it never came down to taking it out on the people connected to Rogers, it always remained locked on target with no room for errors.

"I know now," Rogers murmured. "I know that now."

Reed gave a sharp intake and stared down at the other man. "FRIDAY tells me that the only reason you guys aren't being carted off to prison is because Stark doesn't want Ross to get his hands on you guys; you better count on Stark ever coming close to forgiving you after what you and your pals did. And that's _if_ he wakes up."

That said, Reed turned away from the other man and gathered the forgotten plates of the children and moved to the dinner table. Once close enough, he pulled out a single chair and crouched down to spot the two boys huddled together. There was no use in trying to get them out, especially when in the presence of people they felt threatened by, so he simply handed over their sippy cups and tuna sandwich slices that didn't have crusts. It took awhile for either of them to nibble at their food, but it was a good enough start to get them eating something.

When Reed looked over his shoulder, Rogers was gone.

* * *

"What's wrong? Get kicked out of the kitchen?"

Steve ignored Clint's remark, more focused on just checking their old room quarters for any signs of cameras or mics. So far, there was none, but that was because FRIDAY was something he wanted to exclude since there was no way to completely block her out of their privacy.

Bucky said nothing as he claimed a reclining chair in Steve's room, head turned away and face shadowed by his curtain of dark hair. The man still wasn't talking, refused to enter a conversation, and ignored Steve's concerned questions. Sam allowed Lang inside his own quarters, letting the new guy immerse himself in his new surroundings (the man was too busy being awed about standing inside the Avenger's facility to fully feel the dire situation he was in). Sharon, Wanda, and Natasha stuck together in a shared room, Vision giving a clear order to the Taskforce soldiers to stay clear from the manipulative girl in case she tried to use them as tools of escape or hostages.

Wanda said nothing, going along with it as she followed after the two women to their room. Clint didn't share that restraint as he told Vision to go screw himself before stalking off to his old quarters.

"Crazy, right?" Sam said as he joined Steve sitting on the floor of his quarters, outside of his room where Bucky holed himself up. "It's weird being back."

"That's what you're calling it? Weird?" Steve raised a brow at his friend, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

The other man gave a pearly white toothy grin, his smile somewhat infectious but it dimmed when his dark eyes scanned the room they were occupying. "Isn't it always weird when you come back after being away for so long? Like, it was only a few short weeks ago... but it felt like years gone by and you're barely making sense that _this_ was your room."

The light-hearted mood died down the more Steve listened to Sam's words, the melancholy of the situation making Steve's eyes glaze over at all that's happened. It honestly  _did_ feel like years had come passing through the weeks they had been running, busting out of prison, and then hiding like mice in Wakanda. And then just then, the kitchen, when he announced his presence, he saw Richards go pale at the sound of his voice... but that was not as bad as the two toddler counterparts fleeing from him. Steve liked kids; back when he was being a show clown to promote war bonds, kids would cheer when he walked onto the stage. After the ice and immersing himself into the new world, children wore shirts with the shield printed on them, some bought toys, and some would plead for a picture with him because it would make their day.

But to see toddlers running away at the sight of him, it made him sick to the stomach and more ashamed of his actions.

Tony wasn't a monster. No matter his anger over what had happened, what was kept from him all those years, Richards was right: Tony would never hurt those children.

"Hey, man," Sam nudged him gently on the shoulder, eyes lit with worry. "I dunno what's gonna happen, and how it will end for the rest of us, but whatever happens, we gotta stick together."

"Yeah," Steve nodded as he looked at the closed door of his room. "Together."

Tony had once scoffed at those words, ever the pessimist of the group (besides Natasha), but the older man always came through with a solution despite the odds thrown at him. Now, Steve had to return the favor to Tony, for Tony, because once he wakes up (and Steve was sure of this because it's  _Tony fucking Stark_ ), he was going to somehow fix this mess. The mess between him and the engineer, the mess with the Accords and their violent parting, and the mess that was the Avengers as a whole, Steve was going to be the one to step up and fix this instead of leaving Tony to do it all by himself.

There was no doubt that it was going to be a long, tiresome, twisted, painful, and maybe unmovable road ahead of him, but Steve was going to force that road block to move, he was going to bandage himself up, he was going to straighten it, he was going to continue on without rest, and he was willing to travel to the far corners of the earth if it mean him and Tony will finally do the right thing.

("Together.")


	9. Boo Boo III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scabs are the body's way of getting better, but they still look like they can open up again.
> 
> p.s. also, guest star appearance

"We got an intruder."

Several eyes lock on the screen, watching as a figure sweeps in, almost unseen by how quickly they went by.

Just as one of the Taskforce soldiers pulled up a comm to alert the others outside of the security room that there was a possible jail-break and most definite ugly fight coming their way, Stark's AI spoke up, spooking some as most were still a little wary of the unseen voice.

_"No need to be alarmed, gentlemen. Spider-Man is with Stark."_

"Is she talkin' about the shrimp at the airport?"

A second replay with a pause and zoom button, plastered on the screen of the security tablet was a scrawny guy wearing a skin tight red and blue suit.

"Looks like."

"Probably checking on his boss."

"Who wants to be the one to break the news?"

...

"Alright, don't everybody get up at once," one member griped as he got to his feet before making for the entrance of the security room and further out to the exit of the small building.

Weapon gone (because the guy in the tights was apparently listed as okay in Stark's books), the Taskforce member walked out in the open air of the night, eyes looking for any signs of web-slinging people, the whole area mostly illuminated by the LED lights scattered across the Avenger's facility grounds.

"God, it's like I walked into a horror film scene and I'm the first idiot to go." the Taskforce officer muttered to himself.

"Murder ain't my thing. I usually just wrap you in a burrito web and let the police take care of the rest."

Sure enough, when he turned around, there was Spider-Man hanging off the side of the security building like he wasn't defying the laws of physics by attaching himself to places that had no foothold whatsoever. With a bright red suit that had patches of blew and web-like prints and freakishly large white eyes encircled by black frames that, if carefully seen, would change like lenses to a camera. But the thing that got the Taskforce member most of all—

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" he asked the guy still hugging the wall.

Spider-Man (?) seemed startled from the sudden question. "W-what?"

"You sound like you're still coming out of having your voice change from puberty! How fucking old are you?"

"You can't ask me that!" and there was a sort of high-pitched squeal found in young teen boys, further cementing that this guy was way below the age of his title.

"13? 14?" he was just throwing guesses now.

"Forget this! I didn't come here to deal with you guys! I'm here for Mr. Stark!" the kid snapped at him, his eyes comically narrowed to make the kid seem more intimidating when actually it had the opposite effect.

But the mention of Iron Man sobered the Taskforce officer.

"You kind of came at a bad time." he told the spider-brat.

"Yeah, I figured. I probably wouldn't have noticed if Colonel Rhodes hadn't told me. And he sounds like he's gonna bust himself out of hospital soon to see what's going on. Let's not forget the media going crazy because Stark Tower was surrounded by Quinjets."

PR was doing their best to calm the restless civilians and officials down, but it was slowly spiraling out of control the longer Stark remained under. Honestly, all this shit shouldn't be worth covering the asses of those shitheads holed up in the living quarters, and he still didn't forget how terrified those poor kids were when the Taskforce came into the chaotic scene, the children shaking and unwilling to part from the unconscious Tony Stark.

Only assholes would ever do all sorts of awful things in front of kids.

"Listen, kid—"

"Spider-Man, dude. It's Spider- _Man_!"

"Your boss is kind of out of it right now, but you need to keep this quiet and to yourself because if word gets out, this is going to be so much worse than it is now."

The kid tilted his head to the side, eyes squinting again, and the fabric around his jaw stretched out like he was opening his mouth, probably about to say something, but stopped. There was a pause until he twisted head towards the distance of the night sky, and it made the Taskforce officer straighten up because those were obvious signs of something approaching them and years of experience from his time in the heat of the Afghan terrain, and then some when he was transferred to the Taskforce guard under Everett Ross, told him to be prepared for the unthinkable. Sure enough, there was the sound of an incoming jet, and when his comm cackled to life, Stark's AI's next words were:

_"It's King T'Challa, and he isn't take 'no' for an answer."_

"Jesus Christ...!" he cursed out loud, not caring that the kid was hearing this information with his acute senses. "Can't we ever catch a fucking break here?"

 _"Afraid not, Mr. Murphy."_ the AI informed him, unhelpfully.

It was times like these that Taskforce Staff Sergeant Benjamin "Benny" Murphy kind of wished he hadn't put his dumbass in this situation despite volunteering of taking care of it because somehow, through some twisted sort of fate that had to do with his shitty stars alignment (or some voodoo bullshit), things always escalated. Fucking _always_ escalated, it was ridiculous. Here he was, coming out to give the spider-brat a greeting and politely tell him to go home (he probably had homework and school the next day), but instead he was facing a possible outbreak of information leaking to sinister ears because that asshole Secretary Ross had fucking bloodhounds sniffing up the crack of their asses and this giant jet specifically manufactured in Wakanda was taking a nose dive in the front of the Avenger's fucking lawn! With no word or excuse from the King to give reason why he was here, the visit was unexpected and probably not reached the ears of the people in the UN, therefore it only made this visit more suspicious after the incident at the Tower.

(To be fair, everyone had seen what sort of mean firepower the Avengers had from the shaky recordings of the German Airport, so they had to be armed to the fucking teeth when they came flying in after the AI gave them quick alert that her boss was in danger from the rogue Avengers.)

"Mr. Stark...?!"

The kid's startled voice caused Benny to whip his head towards the living quarters building, scrambling for his small binocular goggles, he zoomed in and cursed viciously at what he saw beyond the glass and furniture.

"Oh my fucking God...!" Benny muttered to himself. FRIDAY had probably alerted the security nearby what was going on in the building, but Ben wasn't going to stand around with thumbs up his ass. With a quick decision, he snapped to the teen still hanging off the wall like some neon gargoyle. "Kid, come with me!"

Hopefully the boys coming in were handling the situation but Benny felt better if he brought in some extra firepower.

"Hey, what's going on?!" Spider-Man shouted after them, leaping from his position to ground level. "And why is Captain America here? In fact, why the hell are those guys here at all?!"

"It's a really long story and I feel like this is gonna be another all nighter, kid." Benny told the teen.

"It's Spider- _Man_."

* * *

**1 HOUR EARLIER...**

Everything was hot, heavy, and almost claustrophobic.

The covers of his bed made him feel like he was going to sink, like he was being cooked alive in an oven it was so hot, but then sometimes that heat would drop and he was shivering like a leaf in a blustering storm of mad wind, teeth clacking and gums hurting and his body left aching.

It was his birthday today.

All the preparations gone to waste, the excitement of the event drawing into an anticlimactic ending, and he was left mostly alone with only seldom few to keep him company as he endured the illness that clung to him like jealous shadows that wanted to drag him down, down, _further down_... all the way to the very depths until he was left there to struggle back to the top, dragging his body up to the surface while his fingernails fell and his palms were a bloody mess.

Dad was sitting on a chair next to his bed.

Dad who barely had time to spend with him, dad who was off to show his next generation of weapons to military liaisons, dad who had to fly across oceans and continents to meet and deal with business partners and clients;

Dad who was always looking for that goddamn man with the star spangled plan.

He was finally here and Tony couldn't even be able to face the old man in the eyes, couldn't find strength in him to feel a flutter of something, couldn't even open his mouth to greet the senior Stark who had finally found time to see his son at the worst possible moment. Why couldn't have Howard come when he had been on break from boarding school a few weeks before? Why couldn't Howard have come when he was invited by mom to a celebration that had to do with a charity event? Why did Howard have to come when Tony could barely see his father, brain barely registering that there was someone in the same space as him?

Eyesight weak, and barely conscious, Tony spotted the shape of Howard's whiskey glass sitting on the older man's knee, his calloused fingers (an engineer's proof of work) wrapped around the neck of the bottle, before his eyes trailed past it to find a dark grey pinstripe Armani vest with matching slacks (and dress shoes, if Tony looked down) looking crumpled like they had been worn for a whole day. The white dress shirt underneath the vest looked more worn, the cuffs undone to give a small show of hairy forearms barely hiding beneath. And finally, there was a face, a dazed and old face where the dark hairs were turning silver and were slowly thinning with time. Eyes dark like his own, like liquid amber of alcohol poured through his eyes because it was all Howard ever seemed to be seen doing: drinking scotch, vodka, rum, and whatever else poison there was for him to choke and burn his throat with.

Somehow, despite the sickness and haziness of it all, Tony never forgot this moment. There was bitterness when he thought back on it during vague times, times where he pulled out the same brand his father drank, sat down and pondered, but the memory never went away despite the years wearing him down.

It went something like this;

It was Tony's 12th birthday, he had finished his boarding school and he, mom, and Jarvis were going over which university he should apply for next. A few days ago while preparing for his birthday party with little success on knowing whether or not Howard would make it (Tony automatically knew his father would not, but his mother tried anyway) he was suddenly struck with the flu. In little to no short time, the party was cancelled and he was tucked away in his room, alone and miserable as his mom and Jarvis came in an out, yucky medicine forced down his sore throat.

Several hours (or something like that) came and went by, and the next time Tony opened his eyes after having closed them when he watched Jarvis leave him to make honey tea, there was Howard sitting in the corner of the room, right next to his nightstand where there was limited edition figurines of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock posed with their phasers out. Howard stared at nothing, like his mind was somewhere else while his body was sitting close to his sick child.

The old man probably didn't realize Tony was awake and watching him.

And suddenly there was words. A one-sided conversation he was having, like it didn't matter if Tony joined in or not. Voice weak, he could do nothing but listen to the words as best as he could. Ignoring the aching of his muscles and the sweat sliding down his tired face, Tony listened to his father's words as the old man continued... but the words were not important. The words were useless babble, a drunken slur that meant nothing, that had absolutely nothing to do with the party, with Tony being sick, with Howard finally showing his wrinkly mug after skipping out so many other things, but he was telling them to Tony anyway.

Years later, when Tony was older, was bleeding, was all alone, was drunk, and was staring at the rainy dew of his windows that overlooked the city below his high ivory tower like a dying prince to his kingdom, Tony finally understood what those words meant to him. The words that were important, that were not useless, that were not drunken coughs, that had to do with everything that was Tony.

And then Howard was standing up—and he was leaving.

Don't go, Tony wanted to say, don't leave.

But away Howard went, away towards the white open door, and away to the brightness of the hall. Tony was suddenly filled with the uncanny notion that this would be the very last time he would see his father alive again. With as much strength he could muster, with as much as his weak bones could support, Tony reached for Howard's back. He reached for the old man, words trapped in his throat and unable to scream out that Tony wanted Howard to stay with him a little longer, if only to prolong the inevitable.

_'Stay with me, just a little longer. Just stay with me, won't you?'_

And Howard was gone, and everything was bright, and Tony was sitting up in a medical gurney with his arm reaching out to the closed door of the sterile room.

 _"Boss? Are you alright?"_ came the quiet and soothing voice of FRIDAY.  _"I'll inform Dr. Prescott you're awake! It's okay, boss, you're safe."_

But Tony wasn't listening because he was too busy looking around his hospital room until his eyes landed on the IV wires stuck to his wrists.

This was not the Tower's medical wing; this was the Avenger's facility.

And that only meant _one_ thing.

Yanking the needles off his wrists and throwing the sheets aside from his legs, his bare feet touched the cold floor and he looked around for a change of clothes from his hospital gown. Finding a cupboard where there was various sizes, he yanked on a pair of sweatpants and black T-shirt, ignoring FRIDAY's insistence that he sit down and wait for the doctors because he just came out of a fucking coma after the second round of Tony vs. Rogers and Barnes. But he would not wait, he was done with waiting, he was done with lying down, he was done. With.  _Everything_.

Halls somewhat empty, he limped out of the medical ward, FRIDAY finally going along with it despite her protests as she allowed for a quiet escape from the doctors and nurses as he made his way out of the building, passed a few security check up buildings, and towards where he knew where they were all being kept.

Just a few minutes from approaching the living quarters building, he was spotted by a couple of Taskforce guards, and they approached him with caution, calling out to him in concern because everyone, including FRIDAY, liked to remind him he had been in a coma. But he brushed them off, ignored the sounds of a jet that didn't sound like a Quinjet, approach the landing pads of the base which sent half the people of the facility in a tizzy. He didn't bother with the guards stationed outside, he didn't answer anyone talking to him, and he didn't stop as he yanked open the door, ignoring the cool air condition as he forced himself inside where, sure enough as he stepped into the common area, there they were. There they all were. All of them in one spot.

And they all looked like a herd of deer freezing before the headlights.

"Tony?" Steve Rogers, who had been sitting on a stool near the kitchen, was on his feet and looking at Tony like some newly discovered species.

"You..." his voice was hoarse and cracked like metal that had been abandoned and left to rust. And there was the pain, Tony recalled, the memory of that bastard sitting on his torso and choking him to near death.

He turned his body towards the blond, face curling in a vicious sneer as he limped towards the other man, a snarl bubbling from his pained throat that he would not care if he started to bleed, he was so angry.

"Tony, you need to sit—" Natasha was reaching for him, coming to his side around a table but Tony didn't give her the chance to touch him because he suddenly whipped his arm up and felt the back of his hand collide with the side of her face. The force of the impact throwing her body forcefully to the ground, and Tony could hear the others suddenly shoot to their feet in alarm.

"What the fuck, Tony?!" Clint shouted, running to Natasha's side as the redhead sat up from the ground.

" _You_ ," Natasha's eyes locked into his, the corner of her mouth bloody from her teeth cutting into her bottom lip from the smack, and she watched under the curtain of her red hair at the fury boiling and festering in his eyes as it morphed his handsome face. " _I will deal with you later_. I will deal with _all of you_ later!"

And she knew. She knew what he was referring to. She knew that he knew of her part in all this, in the darkness of the Winter Soldier's actions. She knew that Tony was going to get her for this constant transgression of where Tony Stark was left out of the loop over things regarding his family... 

After he was done with Steve and Bucky.

Steve had jerked towards Natasha but froze when Tony aimed his poisonous eyes on him, like a snake petrifying its prey as it slithered closer enough until it found itself choking the life out of it. Clint looked ready to pummel Tony but Natasha had kept a death grip on him, forcing him to stay down because this was a fight he had no business being in... a fight. A fight was always going to happen, Steve thought when he watched Tony limp towards him, the others watching and unable to do anything because Vision was suddenly there between them to keep the group from going after Tony but unable to stop the man himself without giving an opening to Wanda.

"Mr. Stark, you need to lie down. You are in no condition—" Vision was trying to reason.

But Tony would not see reason, his eyes were too red and all he saw in his sights was the man who backstabbed him in the cold. Who had lied through his teeth to protect the _thing_ that had taken away his mother and father, that had left Maria unable to play more piano tunes that would sweep him into calm sleep and for Howard to never share whiskey-soaked secrets to his barely conscious son.

There was movement in the corner, and when Tony's eyes flicked to them, he stopped dead in his tracks.

James Buchanan Barnes. 

The Winter Soldier.

And suddenly he was rushing towards Barnes, a roar in his throat as he reached for that pale and open neck, Barnes standing stricken as he jerked away from the engineer until strong arms wrapped around his waist and chest, another pair grabbing his outstretched arms that barely reached the startled long-haired brunet who watched with shocked steel blue eyes.

"Tony! TONY STOP!" someone was shouting in his ear.

"I will  _destroy_ you! I will have the people publicly crucify you, Rogers, Romanoff, and all of who collaborated in on this! They will wave your head on a pike! And I'll be laughing, and I'll be smiling, and I'll be pissing on your grave!" Tony screamed in Winter Soldier's face, spitting at him.

"Tony, _you're scaring them_!"

Richards. Reed Richards.

The man was holding onto his arms, having ran in when Tony was swinging his limbs violently as Steve caught him before the man could sink his claws in the murderer, had his eyes wide with absolute horror that matched the look on the Winter Soldier's face. He looked past the scientist to find two tiny bodies hiding in another doorway, two tiny faces looking at Tony.

They had once looked at him like he was a sign of hope.

"Mr. Stark!"

Everyone was suddenly looking at the entrance where there stood Spider-Man and another Taskforce officer that had rushed in from all the commotion they were causing. Some agents had their weapons trained on the group to prevent further escalation. And not longer after, T'Challa, with a couple of escorts, came in the scene with an air of agitation in his steps, actions, and expression.

Roughly pushing Richards and Steve off him (and giving one last snarl at the still frozen Winter Soldier), Tony grabbed the scientist by the arm and dragged the bespectacled man with him, limping past a still down Natasha and towards the entrance where everyone was standing like a bunch of fools.

"What about the kids—?"

"Leave them. We have a machine to build. The quicker we get it fixed, the quicker we throw their asses back to where they came from."

Richards stared at the back of the man's head, a sense of numbness from how suddenly ruthless and cold the man's voice was, like this was not the man he had met in the fire of the Baxter Building. It was like the blow to his head created a whole other identity that was full on _iron_ and much less _man_.

Just as they were about to pass King T'Challa, Tony halted and turned to the young king who met his stare head on, fists clenched and prepared for whatever the billionaire would throw in his face.

"From one man with fortune to another, you're gonna have a hell of time cleaning up after their asses. Have fun with that, you're majesty." Tony spat before whipping towards the stunned group, giving Rogers a pointed look. "And you all best remember that I don't make idle threats when I say:  _I will come after you when I am done here_."

And with that, he turned away, dragging a silent Richards with Everett, who had joined them, following after the trail of the furious Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My Name Was Not Friend" by HiMyNameIsNotSlimShady (I like this story)
> 
> With permission, I included a character of their's named Benjamin Murphy, but I'll call him Benny because there's another Ben in this story that will eventually show up because where there is a Reed Richards, there is a Ben Grimm.
> 
> Also, for that one person asking about the Fantastic Four, this takes place before they have superpowers. Just fyi. :)


	10. Show and Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children should learn to show and share stories. And what is seen, and what is shown, cannot be unheard nor unseen.

Natasha said nothing as she sat perfectly still while Clint threw away the bloody napkins after he cleaned the blood from her lips and nose.

After Tony stormed off with Richards, everyone was left in a wired state. The threat delivered to them by the angry Stark sparked a sense of worry; it was obvious Tony had known they all had been hiding in Wakanda, his parting words with the king proof of that, and had previously turned a blind eye when they busted the others out of the RAFT and ran away with Steve to Africa. But any chance of a safe haven blew up in flames the moment Steve and Bucky went running in, fanning the flames and creating another mess for everyone to be involved with. 

She had not wanted to believe, dismiss Bucky's paranoia about Tony hurting those children, but there was that small part that held doubt. There was a part of her that planted the seed of seeing an angry, distraught, and reckless Tony putting all attention to a young Steve and Bucky when the adults were not within the vicinity of him to blast in the face with his repulsors.

The doubt was quickly washed over in shame and disappointment with herself. That backhand to the face that left her left cheek and nose throbbing was absolutely justified.

It didn't matter that T'Challa was there to save the day because by the look on his face, he looked like he wanted to leave them for exposing themselves but found it pointless because everyone already knew by this point, Tony was going to sniff them out wherever they planned to go next, he was going to check every crack and crevice in the deep parts of the world, and he was going to  _make them pay_.

There was a wrath that no one, not even her, Steve, or Clint, had seen when he spoke in the broken but firm voice. The dark bruises that encircled his neck looked like some ugly paint job some amateur drew with pastels of purple, blue, and dark greens all mixed together. It must have pained him to speak, to twist his neck around, but he was too angry to give a shit about it because he had, had  _enough_. The utter scorn and hate plastered on his face made him seem unrecognizable. So terrifying was Tony at that moment that it even made Bucky unable to run... but Natasha suspected that he wouldn't even if he could.

After Tony had left, Bucky looked resigned to whatever fate was dished out to him. He looked like a man prepared to walk the gallows.

Steve was with T'Challa, his majesty probably tearing him a new asshole for his hasty actions if the murderous look on the Wakandan was anything to go by (and that was a pretty scary face that guy had), but the blond was lost somewhere in the dark recess of his mind because he wasn't all there from where he was sitting. Steve looked like he had just come out of a losing battle, like he was too dazed to comprehend the catastrophic events that unfolded and he was too helpless to do anything, like he had been hit too hard in the head and was taking so long to get back together to register the disaster he was in, like he was going to throw up because she felt like throwing up.

"Here," there was a water bottle held out to her by Wanda. "You look sick."

"Thanks." she murmured before taking it, untwisting the cap and taking a few small sips before settling it down on the kitchen counter she was occupying.

Spider-Man had been escorted out of the compound, earlier trying to gain Tony's attention but the man hadn't spared the poor kid a look, and the officer that had came along with just simply took the young man by the shoulder and lead him out to the gates of the facility (after which Spider-Man was told to keep all what he had witnessed to himself or else).

Speaking of youngsters...

Without the doctor there to look after the two boys, the children were left alone with the rest of them and one of them looked like he was going to collapse because of how frightened he was. Vision still had to keep an eye on them, most especially with Wanda, so he couldn't cater to their needs despite the android's want to join the vulnerable duo who were dressed in simple pajamas. When Steve went to calm the two abandoned children, the younger Bucky immediately fled with the tiny blond barely keeping up after him.

As much as they wanted to go after and do something to calm the children, they couldn't. Those kids wanted nothing to do with them for the same reasons Tony wanted to wash his hands with them.

"Can't Stark just leave Richards here?" Lang asked, looking at the darkened hallway where the kids ran off to with worry in his eyes. "I mean, that's kind of a dick move to leave the boys behind with no one to look after them."

 _"Dr. Richards is needed for the construction of the machine to send the boys home."_ came FRIDAY's monotone answer.  _"And because of the Accords, because of the dilemma with Secretary Ross, and because of you, we are short-handed on looking after them properly."_

Lang made the slow motions of gesturing to everyone and himself.

 _"Of course,"_ came the sharp and sarcastic voice of the AI.  _"Further interaction with the people who scared them half to death when they had only a few days ago watched you all attack boss, the doctor, and Vision is the next step. That is quite the splendid idea, Mr. Lang. Quite the father-figure, aren't you?"_

Her last biting remark was a slap to the face, for not only to Lang but Clint as well.

It was amazing how something created by digital codes and numbers can sound so angry and sarcastic like an actual human being. Tony created some of the most believable AI's, and she could remember the first days when JARVIS would speak, causing some of the boys (and sometimes herself when he caught her off guard) to look up at the ceiling as if they would find a man speaking to them through a hidden window of some sort.

(Remember how Tony would roll his eyes or laugh when everyone would look up at the sound of JARVIS' voice?)

"Have they eaten?" Sharon asked quietly after awhile, arms folded together as she stared at the counter of the kitchen island when she had joined them.

"Probably, but they get hungry after only a few short hours. Richards' been feeding them tuna sandwiches." Clint said as he started pulling out food which wasn't much considering how almost abandoned the facility was before they arrived.

With a sense of purpose, no matter how small it was concerning making food for two toddlers, Natasha, Wanda, Sharon, Clint, and Sam got to work in making a hot but small enough meal to fill the stomach of the frightened children. This was not going to win them over, but it was a start and there was only so much Vision could handle while keeping Wanda in his sights to prevent her from sending anyone underground after the first incident. The Sokovian took the security measure with grace, submitting under the conditions because she knew how delicate the situation was, even if it meant something worse than the RAFT once Tony was done with the whole business of sending the kids back home.

Sam's mother's recipe of good homemade chicken soup was something doable that they could pull off.

While there wasn't much in the fridge, the vegetables and uncooked chicken looked good to eat. Sam and Clint got to working on the chicken, cutting it up into smaller pieces and cutting out the fat parts because Clint remembered how his kids would gripe at their old man about the "gummy" and "chewy" parts of the chicken that made their small faces scrunch up in disdain. Sharon worked on getting the big pot cleaned up to take out the dust it gathered, fill it with water to boil while looking for other ingredients in the cabinets. Wanda pulled out the cutting boards and cutting knives, gathering the vegetables after rinsing them clean, handing half of them over to Natasha to get started in cutting the carrots, peel the potatoes and cut them, slice tiny pieces of onion, and cut the corn off the cob.

While cutting a stubborn corn in half, Natasha saw something moving near her hand. Green eyes narrowing down on the kitchen table, her actions slowed but did not stop as she watched a small line of ants crawling down the table.

Her eyes trailed up, looking to find Lang sitting docilely on the sofa.

She could have dismissed it as little insects minding their own business, that it was just nature, but the gleam in Scott's eyes told her that this was not coincidence. Seeing that she was watching him, Lang gave her a small nod before ducking his head, not wanting to give the AI a tip of what was going on.

The Taskforce had taken off their weapons and their gear, the gadgets as well, so how the hell was Lang controlling the ants? And what the hell was he up to?

"I think that's good enough." Wanda's voice broke through her thoughts, and the redhead blinked back into focus.

"Yeah," she agreed, sliding the cutting board to Sharon's pot to dump the vegetables. "That's enough."

* * *

  **STARK TOWER**

It looked like Stark was going to pull the person from the other side of the phone by the tip of their ears, have them sprawled on the floor of the R&D department and yell at them into submission. The man had been pacing around like a tiger in the cage, impatient and irked beyond reason, his voice a mess but still giving thinly veiled threats to the person who was thankfully not in the same building as them.

Reed just kept working, sometimes looking over to the other side of the room where Everett was speaking to someone else in his own phone.

He wish he could call Ben. He hadn't talked to the guy for awhile, and his friend was probably no doubt worried sick about him. But he had a job to do: fix this mess and put things back in order so he would never bother Tony Stark again because that man clearly had enough bullshit in his hands.

It was disconcerting, but should he be really surprised about the man's complete 180 in personality after the assault? No, Reed shouldn't really.

The only thing that struck him the most was leaving behind the kids. The children who watched them disappear in the darkness of the facility, and Reed wanted to run back and scoop them up so they could come along with them, but the tight and bruising grip on Reed's upper arm kept him quiet and in place.

_'I wonder if they're okay. Is Vision able to look after the boys?'_

"Hey!" came a sharp snap that startled Reed. "No daydreaming. I need you focused!"

Stark, having finally ending his call with whoever was on the other end of the line, abruptly sat down and blew up holographic blueprints of the machine, weaving his hand like a grand meister of an orchestra that illuminated the lab. The three bots had pestered their creator, one of them, DUM-E, was holding a bag of tennis balls; he was probably looking for the missing kids. However, they were sent to work with one surly command by the Stark. The bots wilted but did as they were told, abandoning their little trinkets and replacing them with tools to help the construction get under way.

Reed said nothing, getting back to work like the man said.

Without the kids, they worked with no Vision or FRIDAY bothering them, making steady progress as the machine was slowly getting pieced together with long hours of getting lost in the calculations, the experiment, and the trials.

(It was kind of funny, wasn't it? It was funny because he felt a little happy being around them and Stark, like he was a part of something.)

"Holy shit, Tony, what the hell happened to you?!"

Both men snapped their heads up to attention, finding one Colonel James Rhodes in a wheelchair at the entrance of the lab. Colonel Rhodes, in Reed's honest opinion, probably shouldn't be the one to say such things considering he looked worse off than Stark.

"Roger and his merry band of assholes happened, that's what." Stark snorted, uncaring of the sharp look Everett was giving him.

"Wait, what?!" Rhodes stiffened in his seat.

"I thought we were not suppose to be privy with confidential information, Mr. Stark." Everett spoke.

"Rogers' here?! And he messed you up?!"

"What's the matter?" Tony ignored Rhodes, overlooking the man and straight on Everett. "He's an Avenger, he's got right to know, too."

"Hey! Don't ignore me, Tones! What the fuck happened while I was gone?! No, better yet, what happened when you were—"

But they continued like Rhodes wasn't even talking or in the same room with them, and Reed could see the man's face turn somewhat shade of red from how he looked ready to explode like a volcanic destruction of nature. Not wanting to see something break out into another possible fist fight, never mind the fact that the man was in a wheelchair, Reed got up from his workbench and strode towards the Colonel with an outstretched hand of greeting.

"Colonel Rhodes, I'm Reed Richards." he introduced him. "I work at the Baxter Building."

"Yeah, I heard of you." the man muttered, shaking his hand despite looking like he would rather using them to strangle Stark.

(Stark's probably had enough of that, anyway.)

"Here, let's talk somewhere else, shall we?" Reed led the man away. "I'll tell you what happened."

"This isn't over Tony!" Rhodes shouted over his shoulder as Reed pushed the wheelchair to another section of the R&D floor.

When they reached a break room, Reed got to work with making himself a cup of coffee, offering to make something for the man but Rhodes politely refused. When Reed finally settled down on a bench in front of Colonel, he let out a long sigh.

"So," Rhodes nodded at him. "Can you tell me what sort of shit Tony and Rogers got into?"

Where to begin.

"I was contacted by SHIELD some years ago, but for all I knew, they could have been HYDRA..."

* * *

  **AVENGER FACILITY**

"That looks good."

Wanda smiled as Steve finally joined them at the kitchen, being careful not to get in the way which was a little funny since he was so huge. He and Sharon shared a smile before turning their attention to their respective places. T'Challa had left to the Tower where Stark and the doctor had went to, probably going to try and calm the fury of the man who was conjuring up whatever punishment he promised to deliver them.

"Sam said his mother would make him this when he was younger." she told the blond as she squeezed lime into the soup to give it more flavor.

Sam was serving bowls for the others but preparing two smaller ones for the children that were apparently hiding in an office together, FRIDAY keeping them company and occupied. FRIDAY would sometimes place cooking shows to Wanda when she wanted to try a new recipe, both learning and finding entertainment in watching Gordon Ramsey rip into someone for their cooking. American broadcasts confused her a little from how people would find this show addictive from a man constantly berating cooks, but she was slowly finding out why. The machine was probably playing cartoons for them.

When Wanda went to reach for an extra spoon because Clint had taken hers to use it to make rice so it can be included in the soup, she paused when she saw Natasha approaching Scott in a manner she had only seen the woman do when in the middle of a mission. It was subtle, but Wanda could see it, and it looked like Natasha was trying to keep it casual because of FRIDAY and Vision keeping an eye on them, along with the Taskforce stationed outside.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked from behind her.

"No," she said after a moment, turning away from the two in the lounging area. "Nothing. Here, let me get you a bowl. Is your friend Bucky hungry?"

Steve watched her, but she didn't meet his eyes and busied herself in preparing a bowl for him. He looked back to the lounging area, his brows drawn in a little furrow but Wanda placed a cool hand on his wrist, hoping that he would let whatever was happening go. After awhile, Steve turned away from it all and grabbed the extra bowl of soup that was for Bucky while Wanda finally grabbed herself one and joined the others in the dining table.

Doing his best to ignore what Wanda didn't want him digging his nose into, Steve walked into the dark hallways. It didn't take long to find the room where the two kids were holed up in, and he knew because Bucky was quietly keeping watch of the little children by the doorway, eyes never leaving them even as Steve knelt down beside him with two steaming bowls for just them.

"How are they?" he asked.

"Scared," Bucky answered. "I left the food on the table and they wouldn't touch it until after they made sure I was out in the hallway and after the AI locked the door to keep me from going in."

Steve looked through the glass door to find his younger counterpart scooping at his food in a messy manner, the potato the tiny boy wanted to eat kept slipping from the plastic spoon and creating a splash that sent splatters on his pj's. The other boy, the young Bucky, was quietly and slowly eating his soup as carefully as he could, all the while looking at them to make sure they haven't tried to force their way into the meeting room.

"I... I really messed this up for everyone." Bucky whispered.

"It wasn't just you, Bucky," Steve sighed. "I was caught up with the scare, too."

Bucky just ducked his head, biting the bottom of his lip and curling himself up more like he was trying to disappear in the shadows and never emerge. He placed a gently hand on his friend's taut shoulder, wanting to ease the tension and guilt he was accumulating because Bucky already had enough on his plate as it was.

"Bucky, listen, we didn't know—"

"Stop trying to make up excuses, Steve!" Bucky hissed at him, roughly pushing the hand off his shoulder. "Just shut the fuck up and _stop_ trying to make up excuses! I almost killed another innocent man and it had _nothing_ to do with HYDRA or the Winter Soldier!"

Steve stared at Bucky, mouth dry and eyes drawn to the angry lines on his friend's face. Bucky gave him one last look before turning back to the room where the boys where now distracted by a holographic glow displayed by FRIDAY. Their little fingers pretending to grab something that wasn't actually there, merely created through tiny lights littered all over the meeting room when the Avengers were called together to give strategic views, whether it be from a training exercise or an upcoming assignment. Their blue hued faces lit up like they had discovered something mystical, and while they could not feel it, they certainly felt _something_ of holding onto what they perceived as magic in their imaginative minds.

(Steve sat in Tony's workshop once, watching him work with JARVIS as they created schematics about upgrading Steve's suit, and this was where he heard Tony tell him, "If you show a caveman technology, he would think it was magic. If you showed a modern man magic, he would think it was technology. Which one are you, _Capsicle_?")

When did he start to cease looking at it like it was something amazing and just saw it as another tool to help with his everyday needs?

Steve honestly couldn't remember when.

"Tony used to show off his lab to me," Steve said out loud. "He let me in and let me watch him build things. Sometimes he would take me with him to the garage where he had hundreds of cars, Buck. No, he really had _hundreds_ of them. He even put their brands and model all in alphabetical to chronological order. And he would let me draw his three robots that he named DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers..."

Once Steve started, he couldn't seem to stop about all sorts of things Steve had seen Tony do and what stuff the older man got the super soldier involved with. How Tony once made Steve move the heavy stuff around in his lab, how he had to stand on the roof of the Tower while there was storm to get signal through an antenna only to be told by Clint that Tony didn't need signal because of a thing called wifi and therefore had Steve duped. Then he went on to tell Bucky about the parties they went to, most of which were charity events the Avengers needed to do for PR to keep the people supportive, and Steve got to meet a lot of people through them, especially when they went to charities involving veterans both young and old. Steve liked those because it was like meeting old friends when he sat down with some people that he had previously come across a lifetime ago.

And then there was the stories about the Avengers. The first ones. The six of them before Rhodey, before Sam, before Wanda, and before Vision. Bruce's special tea filling the aroma of the kitchen when Steve joined him in the morning, Thor doing his best to make a breakfast which was more like a "great feast of pancakes fit for warriors" because he was told by a lady Darcy that everyone loved pancakes in the morning, Clint dangerously hanging on the side of the building because Natasha once said he was a man who was raised by hawks and was therefore part bird. Natasha kept to herself, but she was more than welcome to join everyone when there was a movie night for everyone to settle in and bring out the popcorn to munch.

Tony was always on the move. He was restless and he wanted to get his hands on his tools or flick them in the air when he worked on blueprints that he personally designed to his own making. Tony was often up in odd hours of the night and was so focused that he forgot to eat and sleep, Bruce had to drag the man out of the lab and everyone just dumped a plate full of food for him to inhale. Steve sometimes had to keep him down to prevent the man from going back, telling him to slow down and just rest for the moment, will ya?

"You miss him."

Steve blinked, the meeting room inside gone dark and the children curled up as they fell into slumber, safe from the outside.

Bucky was looking at him, eyes soft.

And really, when Steve thought about it, when he looked beyond Bucky and beyond the hallways, beyond this building and into the night sky where he remembered how he and Tony were sitting outside on a balcony sharing a cold beer while watching the city lights like guardians, he really,  _really_ fucking missed _that goddamn asshole_ who made him stand in the weather while he got soaked and used him as a heavy-lifting mover to rearrange his lab.

Because despite everything that happened, despite his faults and the risks, Tony Stark was a good friend who looked after you when there was no one to guard your flank. He was the kind of friend who would let someone in his house even after they tried to kill him and everyone, and he was the man who would cover you when you were in a bind and had nowhere to go. Tony Stark was the kind of person who would shut down anything that was a danger to the people and create something new to better protect the people with his own two hands because he was that fucking responsible.

Because who put a roof over Steve's head? Who had to face the angry public when those hellicarriers came down from the sky or when London faced property damage due to a fight fight between Thor and some elves? Who was the one who had to take the heat of Johannesburg? Who was the one always paying the damages?

(Tony Stark)

And where were the Avengers in all this?

(Gone, gone, _gone baby gone_ )

"Steve," Bucky sighed, eyes downcast. "I, I wanna make things right. If I could, if there was a way, I'd do whatever to make up for what I've done."

Steve slowly nodded, looking down at their cold and untouched bowls of soup. 

"Me, too."

And then they heard a commotion from the living area, both of them swiveling from the floor to look down the hallway where they can hear something faint. It sounded like they had the flatscreen on, a movie playing perhaps, but then Steve heard something familiar. Something so intimate and darkly familiar that he kept dreaming about in the late hours of the night, every time he crumpled a letter he wanted to write to Tony because it was all he could hear taunting him in his ears;

_"Did you know?"_

Climbing to his feet, feeling as though he was losing the air in his breath, feeling the lightness in his mind, feeling all at once the cold and the heat and the darkness that swallowed him the like arctic ocean all those years ago, he ran down the hallway.

And when he sprinted into the scene, when came into the lounging area where everyone had been left behind—

They were all looking at Steve, all wide eyes and trembling bodies looking down at Steve.

And Steve was looking at the frozen screen, Captain America looked so... so closed. Like the man before him was not the one people saw on their shaky camcorders or phones, not on anchor television because this was from Tony's suit recording everything because it was a mandatory to review in case of looking for whatever angle when something had got the better of them in every battle they went through so Tony could build better gear and Steve could think better strategies. The suit caught the look of Captain America's tight lip, his iron-clad face when in the face of judgement when he said:

_"Yes."_

And the judgement was everywhere in this room. And it wasn't hurt auburn brown eyes staring at him, it was from everyone else.


	11. Tattletale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm gonna to tell on you."  
> An Interlude

Scott Lang was controlling the ants.

FRIDAY quickly surmised this when she caught the motions of something between Natasha Romonoff and the man. Try as she might, FRIDAY knew something was up and was quick to scan the room for any anomalies that seemed out of place without needing to tip Vision off because he himself was already too busy keeping an eye on the witch who could at any given moment try to sway someone under her control.

Keeping one eye (which was a metaphor because she had _millions_ of eyes everywhere) on the one-armed unstable assassin that was delivering the food to the children the moment it was prepared, she zoned in when her sensors spotted the problem and when she placed one of the many cameras into the area, she saw nothing... at first. Recalling Scott Lang's ability to shrink, she carefully zoomed the camera in closer until she spotted a trail of ants with little blinking antennas placed on their backs. Since they had taken whatever gear was off the man, FRIDAY could only suspect that what he was using was something that was surgically implanted in him, therefore impossible to reach unless they notified the doctors of the base.

She was prepared to do so, to alert the Taskforce to have Scott Lang removed, put in surgery, and remove whatever device there was that drew the ants—but she stopped.

These people had taken part of something that resulted in the permanent injury of Colonel James Rhodes, Vision's lack of faith in his decisions, and her boss being the punching bag of every media outlet, every military organization, and every government out for blood because they had flipped the finger at the people who wanted them to have restraint in their actions. Why was their voice much more important than the masses? Why was their might more right than the people who didn't want them in their countries?

When she had been first authorized into the system, she had read the traces of her previous predecessor JARVIS, and all of it read one thing:  _Protect Sir Anthony Edward Stark_

And she would not let JARVIS down.

She hacked through the connection between Lang and the ants, easily immersed into what seemed like a trail towards an R&D building where all the rogue's gears were stashed away.

The damaged suit from Siberia was still in there, going under maintenance. 

With the plan recognized, she transferred to the next building and watched as the tiny ants were plucked from the ground by alates, getting a ride to hasten their destination to retrieve the tools that would have the Avenger's escape. Once they were inside, once she carefully made access into the building easier, in subtle manners that Lang would not suspect a thing because somehow he was watching this all, they were led inside the lab where there was the boss' suit. Once they were close enough to her liking, she completely overrode Lang's control and had the ants take the recordings that was left in a secure box which she automatically unlocked. From a dozen of other cameras in the lounging area, she saw how Scott Lang jumped in his seat on the sofa, but thankfully did not vocally panic despite how pale he grew from being caught red-handed.

The ants grabbed the tiny chip and headed straight back to the living quarters building.

Scott Lang outwardly remained calm despite her scans dictating that he was having something close to a panic attack, but it slowly simmered down when he realized that he wasn't being dragged away by angry Taskforce officers that had yet to move from their stations outside. He probably felt like something akin to having his wrist slapped.

Once the ants had returned to the building, she disappeared from the connection and allowed Scott Lang to feign tying his shoes while reaching for the tiny object, giving the chip a speculative look before his eyes fell on the flat screen of the television set in the other room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, some of you guys are sharp as fuck before I even got this chapter out.


	12. Liar Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you start lying, you never stop lying.

Rhodey stared at Richards like he had been told by the man that he can stretch his body like an elastic band.

"So what you're saying is that, the other Avengers, the guys who we were fighting against at the airport," and this was where Rhodey paused, looking at Richards for confirmation.

"Yeah." the dark-haired man nodded.

"They're all under house arrest with Vision and the Taskforce keeping an eye on them after they broke into the Tower and beat the crap out of Tony?"

Richards swallowed, looking past him with his eyes glazing over and Rhodey knew from seeing the faces of young soldiers that had experienced their first time in combat that they were recalling something ugly in their minds. Richards was probably thinking about how Tony was tossed around, and Rhodey had seen how strong Rogers was. He had seen the man in action when in a fight, and Rhodey could feel the bubbling anger ripping through at the thought that he was sitting on his ass in a hospital while Tony was getting the tar beaten out of him by _two_ goddamn super soldiers outside of his suit.

(That asshole that came into Tony's life and torn it out from his feet before leaving him battered in the frozen grounds of a Siberian bunker.)

"And the only reason everyone is going through this shit is because _you_ ," and here this was where Rhodey saw Richards wilt from the accusative tone in his voice. "Because you were messing around some time machine—"

"It's actually a replica of the Tesseract." Richards cuts in but Rhodey continued on like the guy hadn't even talked.

"—and now there's Rogers and Barnes mini me's holed up in there with them. Two babies that damn idiot Tony left behind all by themselves with only Vision, the android, and FRIDAY, the AI, to look after them in the same building as those criminals?"

When said out loud to the doctor, Rhodey could see just how cringey he was because this was honestly pretty fucked up. While not experienced with kids, Tony should have still known better than to leave two impressionable young children behind in the same building as criminals and armed guards. What the hell had gotten into him? Dumbass said he promised an explanation and now he wasn't saying shit to his best friend and Richards was the only one to tell him what was up. Vision and FRIDAY were smart and useful but they were not humans and therefore had barely the resources and lack of practice in how to properly care for younglings. There was no doubt that Rhodey could see those kids scared witless from having watched Tony walk away from them, leaving them at the mercy with Roger's group and the Taskforce. FRIDAY and Vision probably had their hands full, Richards looked like he was going to cry.

"Swear to God, I'm gonna kick his dumb ass." Rhodey muttered under his breath and he turned his wheelchair around. "C'mon, doc, we got an idiot who needs a good butt-whoopin'."

"I think he's been knocked around enough, thank you." Richards said from behind him, but Rhodey continued back to the lab where Tony was working relentlessly—and oh, would you look at that? T'Challa was there and making nice with Everett. He had half a mind to punch T'Challa in the throat for not doing enough to prevent this shit from escalating but Rhodey thought they had enough enemies and not enough friends, so he instead went with the frosty approach.

"Hey, your majesty," Rhodey rolled by the man, gaining his attention. "Come to claim some lost international fugitives?"

"Colonel Rhodes, good to see your wit is still intact." the young king bowed his head respectively, not confirming or denying the accusation. At least he was being honest about where he stood (meaning: he was on nobody's side but his own).

"Your jet outside still running hot?" Rhodey asked as he came closer to the lab's entrance.

"I walked out of the jet before it even landed."

"Good."

Tony was in the middle of instructing his bots to lift up a heavy-looking piece of machinery that Rhodey had no idea was for (as always) while the engineer was preparing his indoor crane. Richards ran past Rhodey, joining Tony's side and the man gave him a wave to prepare the soldering tool and giant bolts they would be soon using. Once the miniature crane grabbed the thing and lifted it into the air, Tony then locked the crane and place while ordering the bots to bring up the panels to attach to the outer rim of the machine so he and Richards could stick them into place.

All the bots went into their respective positions while Tony and his partner pulled up two ladders, tools in their hands and they climbed and got to work in connecting the panels and making sure they were secure.

It was familiar, watching them work with ease as Tony and Richards spoke in another language they only knew.

(Didn't Bruce Banner speak nerd, too?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"They're having quite the time." T'Challa remarked from the doorway.

(Remember how Tony used to call about the latest shit he subjected his team into? Remember how breathless he sounded because he was laughing so much it was contagious?)

"I guess so."

(Remember Rhodey? Remember? _Remember_?)

Having enough, Rhodey pushed himself forward until he felt his wheelchair jolt when it ran over one sensitive Tony Stark foot. The reaction was immediate, the resounding yelp that echoed in the lab made him grin with satisfaction from the earlier slight Tony had pulled over him. Nobody got away with ignoring Colonel Rhodes, _nope_. Nobody. Not even that dumb genius of a best friend. Tony may get a lot of free passes in the road that was life, but not on the road block named James Rhodes.

"What the _fuck_ , you maniac?!" Tony roared, but Rhodey didn't blink.

"Get your shit together, we're going back to the facility." Rhodey ordered, turning towards the entrance of the lab where T'Challa and Everett were waiting. "His higness is giving us a ride."

"Like fuck I'm going back to that den full of psychopaths!" Tony snapped from behind him, unwilling to move.

"Tony, I will fucking drag you kicking and screaming if I have to!" he warned the engineer. "And for your information, we're not going back for Rogers. Hell, that guy and his friends can go sit on a cactus and become one with their fellow pricks. I'm talking about going back for the kids you left behind, you asshole."

The mention of the children caused Tony to whip his head towards the awkward Richards. The poor guy flinched at the hard stare under Tony's wrathful gaze, but stood his ground, and Rhodey had to give the guy props for having the balls to not run out of the room to piss in some corner because he had seen employees and board members not-so-subtly flee under the gaze of one angry ass man who owned a powerful company and an army of suits.

"They're being handled." Tony dismissed him, and Rhodey felt like running over Tony's feet again for that. "I'm almost done with this, they can wait."

"No, no, no." Rhodey shook his head, snarling at Tony. "You don't get to pull that shit! Don't you even think about doing it! I dunno what's crawled up your ass and died, but I know for a goddamn fact that you wouldn't do this to a bunch of kids, regardless of who they are!"

Tony was now glaring at him with such a rage Rhodey hadn't seen in so long.

(There was a kid, small and knobby in the knees, too young to be with the rest of the crowd that were drinking, smoking, having sex on every available furniture, and there was a fury in his eyes like he had a beef against the whole world.)

"You don't know shit," Tony sneered at him, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. "If you're so fucking worried, you can go by yourself and take the brats! I'm going to stay here, finish building this project, put Rogers and his secret boy band in jail for life, and give all you motherfuckers the boot! So do me a solid and  _fuck off_!"

There was something going on. This was more than what happened from the other times shit went down for Tony and the Avengers, and maybe this went down pretty bad because it was personal and it wasn't some big bad they were dealing with: it was each other. Tony was so shaken, he was pale and he was folding his fists so hard his knuckles were white and he was probably cutting his nails through his skin that he was probably already bleeding but not caring because he was too angry and feeling all so much of the pressures in the wake of the fight in Leipzig. But Rhodey had seen this before. He had seen this only a few times, and he had known Tony for a long ass time and there was these few instances, like right now, that he had seen this before.

When Tony suffered badly after he took Sunset Bain to his house, and the next day there was important documents missing from Howard's office only to end up in the hands of Baintronics.

Or when Tiberius Stone threw Tony under the bus, the media choking and sending Tony in a spiral downward that he, Happy, and Pepper were afraid he'd never come back up again.

And then Obie, Uncle Obie who Tony would run to when Howard got too much, Obie who was there at Tony's graduation from MIT, Obie who picked up Tony after the funeral and took him home and stayed with him—

"Your majesty," Rhodey called over his shoulder, his pilot mode coming to the surface and his eyes locked on his trembling target.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"If you want to earn some brownie points after being a shady asshole, do me a favor..." Rhodey glared at the billionaire with a vengeance. " _Drag this dumbass to the jet_."

One way or another, Rhodey was gonna get to the bottom of this. Because somehow or another, Rhodey had one more reason to pay the Avenger's facility another visit.

* * *

**AVENGER FACILITY**

**_SLAP!_ **

Steve blinked, staring down at the person who rushed towards him and delivered the harsh hand against his cheek.

Wanda stared up at him with a wide and watery gaze, the hurt and anger on her face making him freeze and unable to move, the look that said she wanted to cry but couldn't and wouldn't, refusing to shed tears for him. Then she moved again, her hand whipping up and slapping his cheek, and Steve flinched not from the pain but the action because Wanda was so, so disappointed in Steve Rogers.

"Steve,"

Sam was standing at the other far end of the room, his eyes that were just as wide as Wanda's, looked still as stone. Like someone had stopped time and nothing was moving forward (like Steve couldn't move forward because he was stuck). Scott, who was standing between Wanda and him, was staring at Steve like he was some sort of monster that had plowed its way into his presence and was momentarily unsure of how to proceed.

Clint wasn't looking at him. Wasn't even glaring at him.

Clint's sharp eyes were on Natasha. She was still in the kitchen, and she stood there as she met the archer's hard gaze. There was a growing bruise on her face from the backhand Tony gave her, and Steve felt sick again. Sick like he had been before all this, before the Avengers, and before Erkensine. He felt just as small like he hadn't in so long, shrinking under the many eyes that stared down at him from their high places.

And Sharon didn't seem to be there, standing with the crowd. Instead, there was Peggy's angry eyes burning through his flesh and bones.

"You son of a bitch..." came Scott's quiet murmur, the disbelief in his voice sounded like he was coming out of the grips of a surreal dream.

Wanda stalked away from him (and surprisingly, Vision didn't follow her) while Sharon quickly followed after her, pushing past him, and Steve heard a grunt from behind. He looked slightly over his shoulder to find Bucky, who had been roughly brushed aside by Wanda, stare at the polished floor. Maybe because he, too, had seen enough people look at him with shame, disappointment, anger, and shock. Bucky could barely look Steve in the eye, but he ducked away when so many stared at him because he must have often times seen these eyes directed at him just as they were looking at Steve.

It made Steve want to hide away as well. It made him want to be swallowed whole by the floor and simply disappear altogether.

"You knew about this." Vision said. It was not a question, it wasn't even a subtle way to get some confirmation.

This was a statement from the Judge.

"Since when?" came Sam's quiet demand, like he couldn't find his voice in all this.

Clint shifted his body until it was all directed towards Natasha, fists folded together while his muscles were bulging with tight tension.

"Since DC." Steve whispered.

And suddenly Clint walked away, his intense eyes boring into Steve and the super soldier could feel all the sham and hollow in his body from the gaze, before he disappeared further into the living quarters. Thankfully, Clint didn't push Bucky around like Wanda did, but that quiet disregard for his friend was telling enough. Back inside the kitchen, Natasha slowly sat herself on the lonely kitchen island, their bowls forgotten.

(Who would want to eat after watching Bucky bash Howard's face with his metal arm until his skull caved in or when Bucky strangled Maria until her larynx was crushed and the air was all gone?)

"Jesus Christ...!" Scott inhaled sharply, like he couldn't function his lungs enough to breathe properly. "Oh, my God. I helped you. Holy fuck, I helped you in all this."

Steve closed his eyes, shaking his head. "You didn't know—"

" _Shut the fuck up_!" Scott whirled towards him, face flushed with anger and spite. "You and everyone didn't say shit! You, I was... shit, I was just told they wanted to tell Stark to fuck off and I was all on board because Hank and...! _FUCK_!"

Scott crouched to the floor like he was in pain, hands in his hair like he wanted to grab them and rip them out of their roots.

"I'm sorry," Steve told him.

Scott shot up and lunged at him, but Sam was faster and grabbed Scott from behind. Scott pushed Sam off, no longer going after Steve but far from finished.

"You're sorry you got _caught_ , you backstabbing fuck!" Scott hissed at him.

"Scott," Sam pulled his shoulder, but again, his hand was slapped away by the angry ex-con.

"And why are you defending him?! Has your fucking shine for this guy so far up his ass that you're blind to Steve's bullshit! What, 'cause good ol' Captain America knows better than everyone else?! Because your Captain fucking America can _do no wrong_?!"

No one said anything.

"Because Captain America doesn't want to follow anybody's agenda, it's gotta be his! Am I right?" Scott demanded, his arm whipping up to point at Bucky. "Because you're more okay with Captain America trying to cover up his bff's bloody tracks than listening and seeing what's in front of your face, right?"

Having enough of this farce, Scott turned away from them, disappearing elsewhere where they had no presence to haunt him. There was nothing but silence, Steve waited and waited but nothing more was spared to him from Sam. Instead, Sam just followed where the rest had disappeared, taking the staircase.

He didn't punch him, he didn't scream at him, and he didn't accuse him.

Out of all that, Sam walking away was just as damaging as the other's words and punches.

(Tony had watched Steve walk away. Tony watched Steve abandon him. It's not nice to be on the other side of this, is it?)

Steve felt Bucky walk by him, and he watched mutely as his best friend went to the television screen and pushed a button for the release of the chip. Once outside, Bucky simply set it on the table and then quietly sat down, facing the now black screen with a void look.

"I'm sorry." Steve said to no one.

Neither Bucky or Natasha said anything.

They were just waiting for their execution.

Everyone was now waiting for their imminent death, and it was all. His. Fault.

(About time, isn't it? Time to pay for the consequences of one's actions. Tony had been doing all the payment for him, now Steve has to do it by himself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That pic in there is from the internet, not drawn by me, just fyi ppl.


	13. Hide & Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more hiding in the dark, dearest. All things must be found.
> 
> p.s. has everyone seen the Black Panther teaser cuz holy fuck!

There was a lot of struggling, but T'Challa got the deed done.

Hopefully, he would be forgiven for this afterwards. The dark looks given to him, however, said those chances were like a half full cup slowly draining away as the seconds passed by.

Turning back to the person, T'Challa watched the other man in silence, the other man's eyes trained elsewhere whilst simultaneously trying to dismiss the presence of the young Wakandan. By the powers that be, the young King let out a sigh with his shoulders sagging and his bones aching as if he was an old man that was pulling himself up from the piles of responsibilities thrusted into his unsuspecting arms.

(So much to do, so much to do, dear prince~)

"I apologize that this got out of hand," T'Challa broke the silence.

Tony Stark said nothing, appearing as though the words did not reach him as he crouched in front of a panel to connect the wiring and mainframes in preparation of the machine Dr. Richards had said was something that resembled his first machine on recreating the portal that began this catastrophe. And really, this was quite the mess the former prince had stepped into.

T'Challa had immediately ran after the wayward fools when some of his loyal vassals reported the missing people from the royal suites in the palace and a missing jet from their private airport. He was tempted to don his suit, not forgetting that his first appearance to the super soldier duo had startled them both badly that they ran like hell was on their heels while the Black Panther gave chase, but he was a King now and he had to be diplomatic about it. No sense in creating violence when it only bred more violence (exhibit a) the Avengers).

There was a sharp knock on the other side of the closed door, and T'Challa looked back to see Rhodey sitting outside the lab beyond the sealed doors he shut in order to have some time with the engineer to himself rather than heed the demands of the Colonel. Rhodes had his arms crossed and glaring right at T'Challa with ill contempt. The King was sure the Colonel's heart was in the right place but his methods in dealing with a volatile man who had dragged himself out of the abyss of his coma, faced his attackers with the promise to retaliate, and forced himself to work on a machine when he should be recovering was something left much to be desired. T'Challa knew through experience (exhibit b) "Civil War") that force was not the answer.

Tony Stark was first and foremost a businessman who had formerly created weapons for the military, and like all businesses there was going to be trouble from both competitors of other similar companies to cutthroat men who valued the fortune they earned from such distasteful occupations in profiting through people's struggles.

Like any other person in the world who kept up with the media, he had seen and heard of what sort of ugly things Tony had to put up with. His father, T'Chaka, did his utmost best to prepare T'Challa when people would come to him for the want of Wakanda's most prized possession: their Vibranium. People that would speak in silver tongues that they could probably convince just about anyone to give up their first born child, few who will pretend to stand by him until the very last moment when it counted that they turn a cold shoulder and move on to the next uprising powerhouse, others that will undermine and question every action he'd take with intent to control him to their liking until there's no way to move forward, and the ones that will conduct businesses of their own without his approval for their own gain.

Stark had probably been playing this game far longer than T'Challa had been alive in this world.

And because he was the poster child of his weapons company, Stark was always on the forefront of every magazine. There was gossips, intrusive pictures of where he was and who he was seen with, and then there was the constant scandals that happened once every few weeks. It confounded the King how Stark had been hounded by these people all his life that he treated it like a sickness that he soon became immune to over time that he felt no shame with his actions not long after.

And then there was after Stark's return from his months in Afghanistan.

Soldiers had come out of wars less than who they were before, and while Stark was no different, there was something filling up the thing that was torn out of him (and really, people could actually say it literally and figuratively when regarding Tony Stark and his arc reactor).

No longer was there a womanizing drunkard who made it a hobby to be on the front page of the news with his actions, instead there was a shaken, injured, but determined man who stood in front of a podium and announced that his weapons would be no more. The world went silent before exploding into a flurry of motion that rippled across the globe, and the American government was not pleased. All outlets from talk shows to conspiracy theorists went ballistic, all of them repeating the phrase: Tony Stark had lost his mind!

T'Chaka, his King, his Guide, his father, said he saw a man stepping out of the cave and seeing everything for the first time*. Iron Man was born. Forged and wielded by the man who had enough of sitting back and letting his weapons continue to cause destruction, Stark took to the skies and rained down his justice, destroying all that he had created that killed with something he designed and protected the people with.

And at the pinnacle of where things were starting to turn around for the better, Stark had been betrayed.

Unlike the last several incidents in Stark's youth, although no doubt painful, this knife in the dark was more personal. More brutal. A man that had stood beside Stark since early childhood, had been his closest confident, had nearly killed Stark in the pursuit of power.

Obadiah Stane died in a furious flash by the hand of the boy he helped raise into a man.

And what followed was a series of events that began to change the world.

People tried to replicate the power that was Iron Man and his arc reactor (one of them succeeding), Tony Stark assured the masses that he would protect them with his own two hands and not allow the Senate to lay a hand on his suits (which was wise considering few of them, including a Senator Stern, had been outed as HYDRA implants after SHIELD's fall), relenting only to Colonel Rhodes when the mad made off with one of his suits (though, it could have gone better than a fight between them during a birthday party). Stark Industries, while no longer working together, Rhodes served as a peacekeeper between the two factions since he was a notable figure outside his stance as a close friend of Stark.

And then the disaster that was the Stark EXPO.

That's when things started to get out of hand. That's when people started to whisper about the dangers of a man holding so much power over them that they began to ponder about the repercussions of what could happen should Stark continue down this path.

And then New York happened.

SHIELD tampering with things beyond their understanding and comprehension, bringing about the beginning of a new age where the strange was the new norm. A group of individuals forced together to serve as a stand between humanity and whatever came from above (or from below). In the end the Avengers prevailed, there was no portal to bring more vicious aliens, and the people praised them like godly idols.

And the low thrum of the whispers grew.

Then there was the Mandarin.

With random attacks here and there orchestrated by a spiteful man (because he had been merely brushed aside), all the threatening messages were particularly aimed towards Stark. After the incident where someone close to Stark was hospitalized, the engineer made a reckless move in giving his address to the terrorists, challenging them to attack him in his home in Malibu. Needless to say, the answer came swiftly. Watching the home collapse into the ocean with no signs of Stark rising out to meet his attackers, the nation went into a shocked pause before they scattered like a fox had entered the chicken coop. Colonel Rhodes was then kidnapped while on an assignment in Pakistan, the Iron Patriot stolen and replaced with someone else to use it in order to become part of the escort of the President which made the abduction much easier. It all ended when Stark and Rhodes had found the whereabouts of the missing President (and apparently the missing Ms. Potts), confront Killian who had used a puppet and was the true mastermind of the entire Mandarin chaos, also a man who created the suspicious organization known as A.I.M.

There were no longer whispers. They became bolder as time went by, no longer afraid to speak out loud for everyone to hear.

And then DC happened.

HYDRA had grew within the confines of SHIELD, all of it beginning because of the Paperclip Operation (Americans smuggling Nazi scientists to work under their thumb to make rockets while gaining immunity from their previous war crimes in the Concentration Camps) which made them all the more harder to find because you never knew what was hiding in plain sight from under your nose. Steve Rogers was caught up in the power struggle that came within, growing unsettled and suspicious, and it only made him more wary after the assassination of SHIELD Director Nick Fury. Secretary Alexander Pierce had set the asset, the brainwashed James Barnes, after Captain America and the Black Widow, unaware that he was hunting his best friend down. With the Project Insight about to launch, Rogers recruited the help of Sam Wilson as they began their assault at the Triskelion HQ. Once aware that they were surrounded by enemies, SHIELD and HYDRA clashed, agents turning against one another and death tolls rising. Romanoff, disguised as a World Council leader, infiltrated and released all information to the web, everything exposed. The Helicarriers launched, but they didn't get far as Wilson and Rogers ended it before it truly began, the giant vessels colliding back to the earth.

And the voices grew blurry, the words were chanted, and the people looked to the sky no longer with hope but with fear.

And then Ultron happened.

With HYDRA a scattered fraction, the Avengers united to take out every base they could find. Because the scepter that had been used to open the portal in New York's skyline had went missing, The Avenger's made it a great priority to find it before they lost it for another few months. Successfully retrieved, they all had returned in time for a charity event. But then the after party, where it was just them with all the guests gone, things took a downturn. Stark had been in the midst of creating an AI with protocols to protect the Earth... but the AI that came into being took the words into another meaning: protecting the earth from mankind (it didn't help that it gained access to all the ugly aspects humanity had to offer). The Avengers followed the murderous sentinel, bombarded with attacks by the Maximoff Twins it had recruited to ensure the destruction of the Avengers.

And then Johannesburg happened.

Influenced by the chaotic wisps the young witch washed upon Dr. Bruce Banner, the Hulk was unleashed and wreaked havoc on the citizens of the city. People screamed in terror, buildings collapsed, pedestrians barely escaping with their lives intact, and Stark had to summon a heavy duty suit in order to subdue the great berserker beast. With the Hulk temporarily brought down, Stark flew from the scene with the unconscious Dr. Banner, the damage already done but having no time to do anything but wait for another sign of Ultron.

And then Sokovia happened.

The city forced to rise up in the sky by the work force of thousands of Ultron droids. Vision was born from the cradle that Helen Cho invented, a first humanoid sentinel that was so human like that it was amazing as it was terrifying. The Maximoff Twins, instead of coming to the Avengers with malice, came to them for aid in the stopping the world from being destroyed by the mad machine. It was a sight to behold, watching the city ascend from the earth and towards the sky, and the Avengers had to fight an army that rose up to oppose them. What was left of SHIELD came to the aid of the Sokovians trapped in the conflict, boarding them on the flying miniature Helicarriers. The city fell, and with it, as did Ultron.

The chants became shouts, and the shouts became screams, and the screams became opposition, allegations, declarations, and above all else, fear.

The people had enough of the casualties. They had enough of being in the middle of something between the enhanced from both ends. There was still construction undergoing in New York, half of which was caused by the Avengers as the Chitauri. People were still searching for missing people after the Helicarriers fell and created floods that washed away people who had been nearby; it didn't help that many people that had been depending on the system to keep their tracks covered exposed them because of Widow, agents and their families became vulnerable and while most had been saved, others were not so lucky. London was still shaken from Thor's squabble with interdimensional elves, and things had already been rough on their side due to radical terrorists attacks. But it seemed the worst was Ultron. Sokovia was the biggest death toll to date with the Avengers, and T'Challa could see from watching the news how dark Stark's eyes were when he admitted his part in the creation of the AI, watched as protesters had cried in anguish, how people posted pictures and videos of defiling and burning things related to Iron Man.

Stark Industries experienced an all time low in the stocks.

And then  _this_ happened.

If there was anything to learn from this, T'Challa thought, is that something was going to happen, whether the world was prepared for it or not.

"Mr. Stark," T'Challa stepped forward, and he watched as Stark's back tensed so he stopped himself from coming any closer.

His body was tilted in a way that he could see T'Challa from the corner of his vision, and T'Challa supposed that this was a way of Stark never turning his back to anyone. And who could blame him? Out of all the Avengers, Stark was mostly the one who took the heat of every backlash thrown their way from every incident that he was only partially involved in. It had been SHIELD who went playing with the Tesseract, if the King remembered correctly; it was Thor who brought destruction to the streets of London; it was Rogers, Romanoff, and Wilson who caused the uproot of a dangerous organization that exposed many vulnerable people and caused great damages from falling Helicarriers.

There was even some outlandish claims about the bizarre incident in Missouri where an explosion of alien matter almost consumed a small town but had thankfully stopped before it got worse, and all this had people convinced that this was somehow Stark's doing.

Stark seemed to always find himself in the spotlight.

"You gonna carry me from this ivory tower, Mario?" the older man snorted, but there was no humor to be found.

"I was hoping we can do this without having to face an angry dragon-turtle monster." T'Challa answered smoothly.

There was a small curve in the corner of Stark's lips that appeared only briefly before disappearing altogether. A good sign, the young King proposed, better than no reaction at all. A glance back at the lab outside revealed Rhodes giving Everett a piece of his mind whilst Dr. Richards wisely stood a safe distance.

"What are you doing here, your majesty?"

T'Challa turned back to the older man, still kneeling in front of the machine that looked near completion.

"I'm trying to earn some brownie points, but not with drastic measures." he replied, his words careful. "It's better when the person walks with me rather than fights me to return to the Avenger's facility."

"How considerate." Stark finally graced him with a dark stare, almost like the one he gave when he had left the building after the viscous warning his gave to his former comrades. "Rogers ask you to play negotiator? Because I have to say, I thought Wakandans were better than taking orders from anyone else. But I suppose Rogers has a way of worming into people that he perceives will serve a purpose for him and his sex bot."

There was no doubt in his mind that the jab was intended for a lot of T'Challa's poor behavior during the whole affair of the Accords. T'Challa blindly pursuing after the wrongly accused Barnes with intentions to kill the man he assumed was responsible for the former King of Wakanda's untimely demise; when instead of acting as another supporting figure when Stark followed Rogers and Barnes to stop the awakening of the other Winter Soldiers, he left Stark to himself and faced Zemo alone (though he did notify someone to pick up Stark since his suit had no power); and then there was how T'Challa aided Rogers by offering (brief) sanctuary for the rogue faction. And all that was blown up in his face no thanks to Rogers' and Barnes' paranoia getting the best of them.

(Oh, how his father would have chastised him.)

"I cannot speak for Rogers, but I imagine he's in a very sorry state. But I'm not here to plead mercy in his place."

Stark blinked at him.

"If this is about your place in the Accords then you're gonna have to decide on that real quick because that stunt you pulled... I may have turned a blind eye some time ago, but not anymore." Stark stood up, throwing his tools in a nearby tool box in an impatient manner to illustrate how frustrated he was feeling. "I'm done making up excuses for them. They had their chance and they blew it, so fuck them, and fuck you too if you think you can get away with it."

Arrogance. Arrogance was the one thing most people said when asked what word would describe Tony Stark.

T'Challa didn't see that.

If there was one thing he could describe Stark, it was this:

Exhausted.

Playing the part of a fool, an addict, a drunk, a seducer, a narcissist, and an arrogant man was a mask Tony Stark had been showing the rest of the world since the beginning, and only now that he had experienced so much that it was so tiresome that he let his mask fall and revealed the dark rings under his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders, and the age that seemed to increase by a decade.

Stark had enough of playing around and he would do whatever was necessary to make sure everyone would pay for their part in the destruction they had paved for the sake of the people who were tired of becoming involved with their issues. T'Challa couldn't help himself in feeling respect for that, as one man guarding his people to another.

"I have no intentions in running, Mr. Stark." T'Challa replied cooly, meeting Stark's gaze with his own without hesitation.

The man smiled, all teeth like one predator to another. "Glad to hear that, your majesty."

The King only nodded.

"So," Stark coughed.

"So," T'Challa said. "I believe the Colonel and good doctor wish for you to return to the facility to retrieve two children?"

The mention of them made Stark stiffen up, a castle drawing up it's bridge and pushing buckets of blood to arouse the crocodiles in the murky moat to keep enemies at bay from the center.

"They can wait," the engineer said, voice hard and strangled.

"Can they?" T'Challa pushed on. "I didn't take you for the kind of man who abandons children."

Stark looked like someone had come up and slapped him in the face, face paling and eyes wide. It made the young King pause at the reaction from his biting comment. After a second, Stark shook off the words and his face went back to staring at the younger man with a strained look.

"I was informed by the doctor that in order for the children to return that you are in need of the Vision to help locate the correct timeline they come from. Am I wrong?" T'Challa asked, trying another approach.

Stark rolled his eyes, giving the people (Richards, mostly) a withering look. "Goddamn big mouth..."

"So," T'Challa gave the older man an expected look. "Shall we go and claim them?"

"Can't exactly do that considering that means leaving everyone exposed to Wanda's influence without Vision there to keep her in line." and at this, Tony narrowed his eyes at T'Challa. "Unless that's what you're aiming for."

T'Challa stared at him.

"But of course you wouldn't do that," Stark scoffed as he walked around him. "You're too smart for that, you're majesty. You don't make things obvious, no, you do it when someone doesn't see you coming from behind them."

 _Traitor_ , he could almost hear Stark hiss at him without words but with eyes. Stark felt like he was in the middle of an ocean full of traitors, never being able to turn his back without his spine being struck with a knife.

"If it comforts you, I'll be the one taking responsibility in this." T'Challa spoke up. "After all, I have to make my stance in the Accords known."

"Kiss-ass."

Think of the little brownies, T'Challa thought lightly as he looked over his shoulder towards the people outside, one little point at a time.

* * *

  **AVENGER FACILITY**

"Oh, God. Not again."

Benny looked up from his tablet that he was watching, feeling a headache growing because of the crap he was hearing. The media went into a tizzy after Tony Stark had his PR team give a statement that the whole thing had been a training drill or exorcising bullshit. The public then proceeded to take a dump on Stark by tweeting insults that grew as the snobby anchors sat on their asses and laughed about how it was Stark most likely ringing something equivalent to a butler bell in order for the Taskforce to come and cater to the billionaire's needs. It baffled Benny just how ignorant and pompous these people were, how they felt like they knew every shape and side of Tony Stark like he hadn't changed a damn day before Iron Man. To them, he was still that guy who owned fast cars, dated fast women, and blew the media up with his shit in style but with a suit of armor instead.

Benny looked over to his best friend, Jason Cole, a guy who had been with him since they served the same unit. Years back, when they had been in the military, him and Cole got caught in a tight spot because of a terrorist cell known as the Ten Rings that were leaking dangerous and lethal supplies to the daesh. Just when they thought they couldn't make it out alive, just when Benny thought he never got to talk to his dad again or for Cole to keep his promise in joining his siblings in a Superbowl when his tour was over, there was a sound of something like a jet flying over them before landing between their shabby cover and the barrage of extremists.

Iron Man and War Machine.

Like two children, they watched as the tables turned when the daesh were taken down with little to no effort, guns from War Machine going in all directions and taking out anyone who was hiding beyond the shaky structures of the buildings surrounding them. The supply trucks Benny's unit had tried and failed to ambush went up in smoke from one fucking tiny missile from Iron Man before they took to the skies to catch up with the rest of the supply line.

Benny never forgot how much Cole had kept going on and on while he was Skyping with his siblings, telling them all about how Iron Man and War Machine kicked ass and never telling them how close he came to being killed that day. Their eyes wide and bright, mouths gaping and awed as the story unfolded, and Cole's parents in the background in tears because they knew and they were grateful their son walked away with his life. So every time someone said shit about Stark and Colonel Rhodes with such ignorance, Benny sneered while Cole had no problems in giving the idiots who opened their mouths a piece of his mind.

Spotting the alert of the approaching vessel, Benny groaned from having to go through another round of drama. King T'Challa familiar jet was heading back towards them, and it was only a few short hours ago that the man had left them after that blow out in the living quarters.

"I'm not going back out there again." Benny told his squad mate. 

Cole just shrugged. "Me neither. And not near the ass crack of dawn, too. My shift is almost over."

"Fuck this."

" _Fuck this_."

They watched though security cameras and heard with their own ears as the jet came down, landing on a open pad where some agents awaited for the arrival of the Wakandan King and his fellow passengers. Benny and Cole's brows shot up when behind T'Challa came down an angry-looking Tony Stark along with the legendary Air Force Colonel Rhodes who took up the rear beside Dr. Reed Richards. Stark appeared to be having a nasty verbal match with the Colonel, meanwhile King T'Challa was ignoring it all with a look of ease and calm that made both former soldiers jealous of the man's poker face.

Everett Ross, who stepped out of the jet, pulled a couple of agents aside, talking to them a bit before dismissing them to do what they were probably ordered to take care of while Everett quickly caught up after the entourage.

Inside...

Bucky blinked, surprised that nothing met him in the dreamscape of his foggy mind. Instead of a cold lab, instead of a dirty alleyway, instead of crooked apartment, instead of a luxurious suite, he was sitting on a couch where there was the blank flat screen of a large television that shaded the coming of the dawn.

There was something peaceful about this. When he had waited for the inevitable moment he would be wiped, there was nothing but instruments of torture and cold, dank walls that smelled like mold, but in here, knowing that his life was about to be over, there was a sense of peaceful resignation. One last time he would see the sun rise, one more day he would see the world awaken into something new, and he could be able to close his eyes and fall quietly into the night as it came to a close.

"Alright naughty children, it's murder time!"

Bucky's eyes snapped open, looking over his shoulder in bewilderment to find a man in a wheelchair roll on by with Stark, T'Challa, and Richards following after him. Without thinking, he stood up from the couch and entered the next room, half surprised and half not to see that the common area was deserted with Steve and the Widow gone elsewhere in the large establishment.

His eyes couldn't help but trace over Stark. He looked like a twig that was close to snapping in two but was carrying on like he hadn't been attacked and strangled, like his ugly bruises were of love bites rather than being tossed like some rag doll. The man looked cleaner, like he had hopped in and out of the shower, dressing in casual but expensive-looking clothes to still give off a professional appearance despite the limp in his gait.

His approach didn't go unnoticed. The King of Wakanda gave Bucky a look that said he should sit his ass down and not move a muscle while they took care of their business.

Heeding the silent warning, Bucky moved to the lounging area and sat down. It didn't take long when the others came trudging down to join him; Scott was the first, looking like he hadn't slept a wink and had simply been up and staring at the walls for hours, reflecting all that he had done in the past few weeks since he forced himself into the fight that went above his understanding. Carter's niece came in, hair a disarray but she didn't seem to care, and Wanda was right behind her. And where there was Wanda, the red android was not far as he phased through a nearby wall, acting as the warden in a safe distance.

They all sat there, clothes wrinkled and faces pale and exhausted as they waited for Stark's group to return.

"Hey, Team Douche-Bags." came an unfamiliar greeting.

All eyes rose as there was the same man in the wheelchair rolling himself towards them after coming out of the hall Bucky had seen him disappeared to, and Sam was trailing after him with a grim look on his face.

"It's good you're out of the hospital, Colonel Rhodes." Carter spoke up.

"Yeah, good for me," came the sarcastic quip as his eyes trailed over them, sizing them up. Bucky ducked his head when those dark eyes stared at him. "Good thing that my legs don't work otherwise I would have an easier time sticking my foot so far up your asses that you'd be coughing up shoe laces."

_'Yikes.'_

"Rhodey..." came Sam's quiet and pleading voice, barely heard by the others but much clear to Bucky's ears. Through his curtain of hair, Sam didn't look like he did almost a month ago after Bucky got to talking to the guy. He looked like he had come out of the sick bed.

"Shut up, Sam," Rhodes snapped at him but there was barely any heat to it. "I know what you're thinkin', and as pissed as I am, I ain't gonna kill you for this happening to me. You did some shit, but me getting my spine busted, that wasn't you."

It wasn't like Atlas finally shrugging off the world to release the heavy burden, but it came close to the feeling for Sam if his expression was anything to go by. Despite being on opposite sides, Bucky could see a sort of connection between the two of them, and somewhere deep down he felt happy that at least Sam was able to work it out with his trouble... It made him wish that he could be just as confident as Sam could in easing tensions because Bucky himself was knee deep in his own mess.

"Anyway, shut the fuck up and sit down. I'm gonna take my sweet time chewin' all ya's dumb asses." Rhodes pointed at an empty spot for Sam to take a seat.

It was in that moment that Richards appeared, his arm full with two of the children, covered in a soft blanket, and taking great care not to awaken nor drop them. Bucky had seen how, despite how obvious it was that Richards was no expert in children, he was very attentive to their needs. Everett later briskly walked by, only sparing them a quick glance before exiting through the entrance of the building while gesturing for two Taskforce officers to follow his lead. Barton was right behind Everett, face blank until his directions changed and he came to a stop to a nearby wall and just waited there on his claimed spot.

Finally, Rogers and the Widow came out with T'Challa and Stark taking the rear.

"Are we being moved again?" Wanda asked quietly.

"Yep," Stark confirmed loudly, bypassing them. "I did make a promise to you guys after all, remember?"

"That was quick." Sam said, staring at nothing.

"I work fast when I feel motivated enough." came the quick reply.

"Tony..." Steve looked over his shoulder towards Stark, but the older man whipped his hand up and pointed a finger right in his face.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Rogers," Stark warned him. "We're done talking."

Vision strode over to Stark's side in a calm manner. 

"Is it safe to presume that the machine is prepared in order to send young Steve and James back to their original time?" the android asked.

"Right-o, Vis. You'll be a free man within a week," Stark gestured to the rest of them, an awful smile on his bruised face as the sun that was rising behind them began to fade behind the clouds that blocked it, sending them into a dark world. "We'll be kicking back and relaxing while these shmucks get sent to high security prisons."

A dead beat of silence followed, no one moving and blinking, all eyes on Stark.

"And you know, now that I think about it, I'm willing to bet that there's a lot of people out there who'll be more than happy to take these guys in their own hell holes. I hear that there's this one prison where they just lower you in this hole in the ground and just leave you there. Like, seriously, they just put you in and you're on your own. It's like an underground city where there's nothing but caves, no prisons cells or bars. It kinda makes me wonder how they eat and shit and get water, but maybe they have to wait for the rain, find a nice corner when nature calls, or find rats and bats to eat because those things are the only creatures I can think of that are big enough for people to eat."

"Tones," Rhodes was looking at Stark in alarm.

"Or how 'bout the crowded prisons." Stark pondered out loud as he stared at the ceiling with feigned contemplation. "Stick them inside a prison where they're forced inside tiny rooms with so many others that you can only sleep, piss and shit while you're standing there. Then there's the gangrene diseases you develop because of that. But hey, if you're desperate to want more room, just wait for the other prisoners to kill each other and you'll be good to go. And that's _if_ you don't choke on the claustrophobic conditions from all the stench you'll constantly be surrounded in." 

Bucky knew those prisons, had seen them and experienced them when he had gotten a little too much for his handlers. Months of seeing the disgust and horror people were subjected to, his body diseased and wrecked and sick that he actually wished HYDRA took him back. He could feel a bile rising in his throat, wanting to keep his eyes open rather than shut them to see familiar scenes of how the desperate prisoners killed others to eat, bathed in waste, and rotted to death while he remained, the entire thing broke him enough to his handlers' liking that he was quickly extracted before anyone noticed (not that they ever did in places like those).

"Or maybe," Bucky shuddered, looking elsewhere besides Stark, because he could feel those eyes on his neck. "I could put them all somewhere that just locks them in their own cells, nice bed and bathroom, completely private with no cell mates, food delivered to them 24/7 and just... leave them there. No windows, no books, no noise, no people, just nothing.

"All they do is just stay inside and do nothing _with_ nothing. Nobody to talk to, nothing to see, no materials for them to read, they simply have nothing but themselves. And all they can do is walk around in their tiny cell, look at their empty walls, take whatever food is delivered, and just nothing. And that's the thing that scares them above all else. They're locked up for good, there's no getting out, there's no way they can kill themselves, they're just locked up with no way out—"

"That's enough, Tony." Rhodes hissed at him, but Stark continued.

"—And that's when they start to think that this isn't real. That they're living some embodiment of their worst fear, that they're not simply imprisoned but they actually believed they've died and they're ghosts who are trapped. No mirrors to tell them how many years that have left, no people to see or hear them when they scream. All they have is them, they, and their selves."

Bucky was trembling, one hand folded in a tight fist that clutched onto his pant legs.

He  _never_ wants to be imprisoned like that. No matter how much pain and punishment he deserved, this was the one thing he could  _not_ handle.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, rolling the muscle between their palm, and he shuddered a breath because all he could think about is those four walls, the small cot, the toilet and sink in the corner, and the enforced door on the other end that will never open up again once he was inside. If he had a choice, he wanted to be killed rather than suffer through such a fate.

He was moving, being forced to walk and feeling numb as he watched his feet, being led around and feeling the brush of cool wind making his hair fly. Beside his feet were expensive-looking black slacks, and upon looking higher, he recognized the impeccable designer suit T'Challa was wearing. The King was holding him up, Steve and the others were being led by a small team of Taskforce officers with Vision keeping close to Wanda. Stark and his posse behind them, the children safe and unaware of the malice ebbing from Stark as they were boarded onto the jet without a hitch. With the rogue Avengers all lined up to the side wall, it made it easier for the Taskforce to pull up their guns and shoot them should Steve and the others twitch the wrong way. T'Challa pushed Bucky into a vacant seat, locking him up in place and giving a gentle squeeze, a promise in his eyes before removing himself and heading to the pilot seat where Stark was. Richards and Rhodes were on the far end of the jet, the children still wrapped up and safe.

They'll be home soon, Bucky thought as he watched their sleeping faces. They'll be safe.

And the jet closed up, rose to the sky, and off before the light could catch them, leading them towards the Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Plato's Allegory of the Cave - Someone who had only been mostly all his life trapped within the darkness of the cave, forever chained and looking at the walls, seeing only shadows that reflected by the light at the entrance of the cave is, for the first time, unshackled. The man is free from his bonds and sees things, can touch things, and gradually learns that his former life inside the cave had prevented him in knowing what was beyond it. No longer ignorant, no longer chained, the man will no longer go back to the darkness and only looks ahead to understand his new life and find purpose in it.  
> (My interpretation with the philosophy)


	14. Boogey-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they never preach to you about the Devil is that he doesn't look like a monster with horns, fangs, claws, and fire. No, the Devil walks like you do, talks like you do, and looks just as beautiful as anything you've ever seen.
> 
> And all things beautiful are dressed in White.

Scott used to fantasize himself as a modern day Robin Hood, taking from the greedy rich and giving back to the poor. The class system the whole country used was utterly despicable, seeing how others got the unfair treatment in work places to big brand companies taking advantage of others with their troubles. It grated on his nerves that this would happen, so he was more than happy to get back at people in the name of the ones that had been wronged by said people.

So when Sam Wilson rang him (and Clint picked him up) in need of his assistance, all he could think about was how great he would be working with the Avengers. With the Sokovia Accords hanging over their heads like nooses because they refused to yield to a system that could take advantage of not only them, but the people as well. Tony Stark and his faction coming to Steve Rogers with the demand that he should give up, it only sweetened the allure in being able to knock the top notch businessman down a few pegs.

And then Scott was beaten, imprisoned, broken out, and forced on the run away from his home, friends, and family.

And then he was helping Captain America and Bucky Barnes break into Stark's Tower in order to rescue the two children, watching as his leader rammed into the smaller man like a truck running over a thin post while the second man started to _choke_ the life out of the defenseless unarmored Iron Man. Scott wanted to say something, to join Sam in forcing Bucky off Stark because his face was turning blue and he wasn't moving and he wasn't breathing,  _Jesus Christ Barnes, you're gonna kill him_... but didn't.

And then he was in jail, again. A secret jail because nobody wanted to tell Ross they were there. And then they were moved to the living quarters, which had bathrooms so that was pretty cool. What was not cool was Stark coming in and hitting the spider lady, looking ready to rip into Steve, and promising death to Bucky and everybody who had been involved with whatever shit Stark was spouting about. The guy was an asshole for leaving the kids behind, but there was nothing Scott could do but get sassed by the AI in the ceiling.

And then he tried to break everyone out, using the surgically implanted device to get the ants to grab everyone's gears so they could make a run for it. He watched through the camera of his contact lenses where the ants were going before suddenly losing control over them and watching helplessly as they were lead to find an Iron Man suit. And then, minutes later, there was a recording chip in his device.

And then he saw Iron Man flying through the clouds that stormed around him before it turned into a blizzard, FRIDAY's and Stark's voice sparing a few words until they came upon the landed quinjet that Steve and Bucky had escaped on in order to pursue Zemo. Stark was just... talking, admitting that Steve had been right, that he was there to help them catch the bastard that set the whole thing off. For a brief moment, there was a sense of smugness in Scott's chest, smirking deep inside because holy shit Stark just admitted he was wrong for once.

And then—

_"Help... my wife... Help my wife."_

_"Howard...!"_

Scott could hear Stark's breathing cease, stilling as he watched Howard Stark brutally murdered before his wife, Maria, whimpered at the hand clutching her neck until she, too, went silent. All this with the murderer standing right across the room from him after watching Bucky Barnes the Winter Soldier kill his family in cold blood. And when the camera turned to Steve Rogers, Scott was suddenly reminded of Geoff Zorick, the CEO of Vistacorp and former boss. Geoff's eyes were closed off, unfeeling and unflinching at Scott's accusations, his lips tight and his body like a force that refused to be budged.

Scott was looking at Steve and he saw all this and worse.

After the shock came the anger and the feeling of being used like some sort of mindless tool. It was like he was nothing more than a stepping stone for the guy above him to step on him in order to move forward. The flush of humiliation and horror overwhelmed him, and when he saw Steve run into the lounging room, Scott wanted nothing more than have his suit back, turn into a giant man and bash that fucker's brains in retribution because this was not what he had been fighting for. He fought because everyone had feared this control, this invisible leash they believed was going to be bound around their necks, but in the end he fought for Captain America's own agenda.

(Because Scott was a thief, he was his daughter's hero, he was Hope's maybe boyfriend—not an accomplice to cover one man's murder. Stark was right, Steve didn't deserve that shield.)

He was going to prison because of Steve Rogers, he was going to have his life sealed away on Stark's words, and he was going to live with this acid taste in his mouth because he had fallen low enough that he was like the rest of those goons that followed after their bosses without question. Scott had thought he was better than that, he believed himself to be above following orders because all though it landed his ass in prison, those customers that got cheated by Vistacorps sent letters of thanks as they switched to other companies to depend on their financial issues. He thought by joining this amazing band of men and women who had stopped an alien invasion, uprooted a secret society of neo-Nazi's, and taken down a mad murder robot, he could do just as amazing and more... but reality slapped him back to the earth.

(He didn't ask too much. He was a big fan of Captain America. Perfect guy to recruit as an accomplice.)

The sun's rays shined through, and Scott blinked at the brightness, turning away from it to shield his sensitive eyes which landed on some random guy dressed in the Taskforce gear. All helmets, masks, goggles, and dozens of weapons on their person, they looked the same to him. They reminded him of prison guards that were geared when a prison riot blew up, especially in the solitary cells where guys had been left locked up for too long without much human contact. Scott and Luis used to watch with wariness as a group of armed guards prepared to open a cell door before the inmate flew out of the cell in a berserk-like fashion, arms swinging and mouth open to let out a scream that echoed and conjoled other prisons to howl along side him. Fists banged against the bar cells, there was chanting and shouting, and more prison wardens had to come in and force them into silence. Luis next to him shuffled on his feet, nervous, looking around and hoping that there was not another fight about to blow over them.

This is what it looked like to Scott when he counted the Taskforce officers that outnumbered them. One sound and they would pull their batons, flip their guns up, and force them all into submission.

The blanket that kept one of the kids covered slipped off their shoulders. Richards arms was full, keeping the kids tucked close to him, so he really couldn't move without waking up the kids, but it was kind of cold inside the jet. Thinking that there was nothing about to be done, Scott watched with mild surprise as one officer, sitting close to Richards, leaned down to grab the blanket and tucked it over the sleeping boy without causing disturbance. His gloved hand gave a gentle pat before moving it back to the trigger guard, forefinger tapping patiently and prepared to fire if anyone made the wrong move.

He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on that officer. The guy looked kinda a small, probably a little younger than Scott himself.

Normally, Scott liked to break the ice by saying something that left people either amused or unimpressed. It was embarrassing, but at least it got others to spare some words of their own, but because of where they were and who they were dealing with, Scott felt that anything he said would be unwelcome to all parties.

Looking back to Richards and the kids, he was reminded of another kid that was waiting for him.

If he could go back to the moment Steve asked him if he was sure that he wanted to join them, he would have walked away and kept his hands clean.

And he could have been at home, eating some of Maggie's food, griping and ribbing with Jim, holding his sweet daughter Cassie, chortling from hearing Luis' stories, and probably eating some hotdogs with Hope after finally convincing herself to eat some despite the strict diet regime she wanted to keep in order to stay fit.

(He didn't want to think about Hank, didn't want hear another word about "Stark this" and "Stark that". Stark had been screwed over already, no need to make it worse.)

All this because he wanted to play hero.

* * *

Back in the Tower, every single one of them.

God, it made him want to break out the alcohol again because this was too fucking much. But as long as Ross was parading the title of Secretary, there was no way he would be able to get rid of Rogers and his sycophants without giving the old war dog an advantage. Everett was a godsend, handling Ross while Tony had been deep under his coma before the billionaire took the reins back and handled the old vulture himself. Ross wanted a meeting, an update, a report, a fucking lap dance because he wanted answers and Tony was the only one who was in his sights. His accumulation of evidence was going to kick Ross out of the seat in the UN and back to rock bottom, finally putting an end to him.

(But not for Rogers or anyone else anymore. He was doing it for Rhodey, Vision, and that Underoo kid because they didn't need the bullshit that was Ross breathing down their necks, and neither did anyone that wasn't a functioning human being.)

But for now, he'll deal with those clowns hold up in the apartments of the Tower. All he had to do was get these things on the list done, check them off his wish list, and then reap the rewards for all his efforts.

Sounded easy enough.

"DUM-E!"

_**crash!** _

_'Goddamn brats...!'_

Tony watched the two brats come into the lab, Richards stepping away to avoid the stampede he feared would stomp him to death as the toddlers were greeted with enthusiastic chirps by his traitorous bots. He could have yelled, he could have screamed, he could have thrown his tools and let out a guttural roar that would have done the Hulk proud.  _But_. He simply watched them while grinding his teeth on the gummies he brought himself, saying nothing despite the wary looks he got from Richards, T'Challa, and Rhodey.

DUM-E being DUM-E, made a scene by grabbing his toys and spinning around like he was dancing, not bothered that the neon tennis balls in his pouch were falling all over the place and spreading across the floors of the lab. The kids didn't mind, finding it so damn hilarious as they tried and failed to dodge the flying tennis balls while simultaneously trying to gather them in their clumsy arms. The tiny booger that was mini Steve was repeating DUM-E's name like a mantra, losing his grip on the tennis balls in his arms and having them scattered once again. The other one was just gathering the balls to one spot, leaving them together rather than trying to force them in his tiny arms.

It was chaos up in here, and Tony just chewed on his gummies, eyes focused on a wall beside T'Challa's head.

"They're kinda cute when they ain't being total jackasses." Rhodey looked at the kids. "Maybe we should take baby pictures and use them to humiliate the shit outta Rogers."

"Knock yourself out, honey bear." Tony merely said.

Richards and T'Challa shared a look with each other like giving telepathic communications that involved around the subject of why they were surrounded by strange things when they could be doing something else in their own lives but were stuck here dealing with Tony and Rhodey. There was movement at the door and Tony didn't grace the people entering any acknowledgement, simply picking up more blue berries in his bag and chewing them with an intensity while watching the rugrats and DUM-E mess around.

"What's up, Captain Ass?" Rhodey greeted Rogers, eyeing the blond who stood a respectable distance from the others. "Come for round 2? Because lemme tell ya, just 'cause I'm in a wheelchair don't mean I won't be afraid to tag team with Tones to beat your sorry ass and wipe the floor with ya."

A sigh, "I... I'm not here to fight. I was out of line with that. I'm sorry."

Rhodey just chuckled, humorless and dark and prepared to fire missiles at his target with his thumb waiting over a red button on his handle. "Outta line? You call that outta line? Out of line is when somebody says some insensitive shit; out of line is when somebody makes unwanted advances on a person who ain't asking for it; out of line is when somebody wants to kill someone rather than try to subdue them but doesn't get the chance to because a selfless idiot believed that person was worth trying to save despite how much of a little shit that someone was."

There was silence, the children and DUM-E making a commotion in the far side of the lab, and Tony kept his vigilant eye to make damn sure those lunatics don't trash his expensive-as-shit equipment that was state of the art.

"What you did was way past  _out of line_ with my best friend, Rogers." Rhodey growled, sneering at the still form of the man.

"... We're sorry." Barnes murmured quietly.

"Ain't we all." Rhodey huffed.

Tony slipped out of his seat, crumpling the empty plastic bag before throwing it away in some nearby trash bin, walking past Richards' workbench as he continued to watch the brats wreak terror in his workshop. By now, all the balls were gathered together and DUM-E was holding his bag to let the boys put away the neon spheres inside. It was simple but the kids looked like they were having a fucking blast with the entire thing.

 _"Boss,"_ FRIDAY interrupted his staring.

"Sweetheart."

_"Dr. Cho has arrived. Would you like to meet her here or in the medical wing?"_

"Medical floor," Tony answered as he finally pulled his eyes from the tiny duo and towards his company. "Gentleman, I'll be back."

"Dr. Cho? Why is Helen here?" Rhodey asked, raising a brow at him.

"Are you hurt?" came Barnes' bizarre words of concern.

Tony had literally woken up from his coma, forced himself on his feet, dragged his limp ass towards their living quarters, damaged his throat from all his screeching, felt spikes of headaches because of Barnes bashing his head like a drum stick—Oh yeah. He was totally _fine_.

"Make sure to finish up here, Richards." Tony told the younger man as he walked past everyone, ignoring Barnes' stupid question. "Keep an eye on the oompa loompa's."

"Uh, sure."

Stepping out of the lab, Tony twitched to hear footsteps behind him and he whirled around to find Rogers stepping towards him. There was no fear, just complete anger for this audacious man who forced his way back into Tony's life without his say so. From the corner of his vision, Barnes was like a shadow, trailing after his bff like a sunflower trying to follow the sun.

(Sun so bright that Icarus was blinded by it, and was thus killed because of it.)

"You that much of a glutton for punishment, Rogers?" Tony said, tilting his head as he stared up at the tall blond.

"I'm sorry, Tony," he said. 

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." Tony briefly looked towards the elevator. "You coming along?"

"Can we?"

"Why ask me?" Tony gestured towards the open elevator doors. "You were gonna follow me around with your sad face, so really, what's the point in trying to stop you when you're obviously not going to?"

There was a pause.

"Is there something we can do to help, Mr. Stark?" Barnes asked, voice hesitant and shy but polite.

So much unlike the crying fury and lethal movement Tony had witnessed when he had been nearly shot in the face, ganged up on, and most recently strangled on the floor of his own home. Tony could feel the phantom bits of glass in the back of his head (FRIDAY said the medical team took care to take out any and all glass that were there).

"When is there ever a day when someone can help me with something?" came the rhetoric before Tony entered the elevator.

He didn't say anything as the two entered the elevator without a word, his back pressed to the wall of the thankfully large elevator. His eyes glazed over, disappearing to his own world as he recalled a thought that had suddenly came to him without warning that he felt like bashing his head for how he had missed it. Back in the quinjet when they all were flying back to the Tower, Tony realized something; the machine was almost complete, FRIDAY reported that she had the arc reactor powering the thing so it wouldn't accidentally cause a black out to New York should they go with the normal electricity power... and the children would be returning to their original timeline.

Little Steve and his friend would be going home, back to their families, back to their way of life before Richards fucked it up because he got curious. They would grow up and go to school, get into trouble with fights and girls and whatever shit kids those days did.

And little Steve would grow up to be a young man who wanted to join the Army while his best friend went to Europe; Steve Rogers would get his super soldier serum and become a clown to collect war bonds, Barnes would be fighting for his life before getting captured by HYDRA and become a POW.

Steve would rescue him and hundreds of other men.

The Howling Commandos would be born.

They would be taking down one HYDRA base at a time.

And then—

_**ding!** _

Tony lifted his eyes up to find two pairs looking at him.

The elevator doors opened, and he watched the two larger men step out first before following them. He stopped and stared when he saw Helen Cho wrapping Scott Lang's bloody hand up while they seemed to be socializing no problem. So engrossed they were with their small talk, Tony got tired of waiting and made an obnoxious and fake sneeze.

"Ah- _CHO_!"

Helen jumped, and Lang let out a small yelp from her accidentally injuring his hand further. She threw him a quick glare before finishing up fixing his hand, Tony walked further inside the medical wing, making sure to keep his distance with the super soldier duo. She paused when she saw Rogers but said nothing more, her eyes flicking to Tony before turning back to Lang.

"What happened?" Rogers nodded to Lang's hand.

Lang didn't look at Rogers when he answered, "I was cleaning up the coffee table. There was glass and I wasn't being careful, so, yeah, here I am."

"Should probably put first aid kit up there then," Tony muttered as he walked around.

"Ah, yeah, I'm really sorry about—"

"Uh," Tony interrupted him, giving Lang an unimpressed once over with his eyes. "Refresh my memory. Who are you again?"

Instead of looking annoyed or pissed off, Lang pursed his lips and ducked his head. "Yeah, I know you're doing that on purpose, but I think I deserve that. So, I'll just be quiet over here and let you... yeah."

Tony just rolled his eyes and turned to Helen, gesturing her to follow him deeper into the medical wing whilst the others respectfully stayed away.

"Alright, what did you call me over from Seoul for, Mr. Stark?" Helen crossed her arms, staring at him with an expectant look.

"Do you know how to handicap someone permanently?"

"Excuse me?"

Hips pressed against the side of a random bench, he explained to her, "I need you to help me handicap someone."

"Tony, I'm not that kind of doctor. You need a surgeon and—no wait, why do you even want to handicap someone?"

He could feel stares coming from the other side of the room, and like he assumed, the three men were looking their way. Rogers straightened himself, putting himself between his line of vision and Barnes, face hardening to defend his friend like he had back in the bunker that Tony could only sneer at the display.

"Please tell me you didn't just have me fly over because of this pissing contest between you two?" Helen groaned as she glared at him. "If that's the case, I'm leaving!"

"I need you to handicap this little boy we have."

And the room suddenly went cold. Quickly, Tony grabbed Helen to push her behind him while his wrist band transformed into a gauntlet, aiming it right in the face of a furious Rogers that has stomped towards them.

"Tony, you son of a bitch...!" Rogers shouted at him. "He's just a kid! That Bucky is just a baby, he didn't do anything to you!"

" _Yet_." Tony said, his hand slowly climbing up until it was aimed right at Rogers' brains. Just one blast and brain matter would be all over the floor, putting an end to the pain for only a temporary time until it came back down again.

"If you're looking for a punching bag, take it out on me," Barnes said, voice stern yet pleading. "Don't hurt him."

" _'Hurt him'_?" Tony echoed, a twisted smile on his lips as his eyes burned at the thought of hurting the young boy, like Barnes was comparing Tony to himself. "Can't you people actually use that thing you call a brain and think beyond that?"

( ~~ _Monster, murderer, killer, traitortraitorTrAitOR!!!_~~ )

"Tony?" he heard Helen whispering fearfully from behind him, small hands pressed against his back.

"I need you to handicap someone," Tony told her without removing his eyes from the tensed Brooklyn Twins. "You can blind him in one eye, making him deaf in one ear, anything."

"Why?" Rogers demanded.

"Because," Tony said. "If he doesn't join the army then the Winter Soldier will never exist."

(And neither would Captain America.)

* * *

Wanda sighed as she put the soapy sponge down, finished cleaning the abandoned pot of spaghetti left exposed for days after she and the others had attacked Stark and his companions.

Vision was watching her as always, and she barely got any sleep because his gaze felt so inhuman and probing that she felt vulnerable and exposed because of it, but she did nothing about it. She had hurt him, she had left him in a state of disarray after the fight at the airport (which costed the Colonel's legs), and he was not taking any chances with her again. The soldiers were nervous around her, but they were all putting their faith in Vision to keep her subdued.

She blinked when she felt the disturbance, the traces of desperation and horror until it quickly morphed into anger. It was Steve and Bucky, and when she reached out, she felt Stark's fiery temper, his contempt for Steve and Bucky well deserved although she wondered why they were causing such distress.

Why was Steve always looking for a fight?

(She and her brother went looking for one, and it ended up killing thousands of innocent people, including Pietro.)

She looked back to the lounging room to find it occupied by Clint and Sam. Natasha was in her apartment room and Sharon had been escorted elsewhere by Everett and two guards, probably to face her own trial since she had really nothing to do with the Accords but getting trouble with her own department. Wanda swallowed heavily, feeling pathetic that she would wait when she too was escorted by armed guards to be imprisoned by any of those horrible places Stark described to her.

She walked out of the kitchen, eyes trailing towards the middle area where she saw Stark collapse and nearly got himself killed.

"There's blood."

She turned to Sam, his eyes looking at the dark spot on the carpet.

"It's still there."

The action that set everything to stone. They had been led around like sheep to their shepard, never realizing they were being led to their doom because of one man's selfishness to keep his own.

"You know what's worse?" she spoke, eyes on the dark crusty stain that encircled where Stark had been lying. "When I said to Stark that he was the cause of my parents being killed by one of his weapons, he didn't even deny it. He just stood there and took it, not even defending himself at the thought of taking away half of my family."

"Yeah?"

"But..." she paused, closing her eyes to prevent the tears because that man did not deserve them. "But Steve was... he just..."

A warm and calloused hand reached for hers, squeezing it gently as they pulled her. She met the couch and leaned against Clint's warm side, holding onto his hand as she could recall the image of Steve's face on the flat screen.

"Yeah."

* * *

Scott looked at Stark like he was some holographic life-sized image of an AI.

"Are you... saying you want to keep Bucky from joining the Army?" Helen choked out, disbelief in her eyes. In everyone's eyes.

"Well, yeah." Stark shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

Which it was. A real big deal. Like, a historical moment that echoed throughout the ages of time that they had to print it in text books then erect a museum dedicated to it,  _big fucking deal_! But it made sense because Stark was practically letting the kids go, and those kids were going to grow up to become the two men that were crowding around Stark like moth to a burning flame.

"Have you lost your mind, Tony!" Steve snapped at him. "That, you can't do that! Red Skull would have sent those missiles all over and people would be dead!"

"Yeah, okay." Stark nodded, like he was indulging a tiny child who was throwing some sort of tantrum. It served to piss off the super soldier further.

"This isn't a game, Tony!"

"You think I'm playing around!" Stark yelled, eyes wide and burning with hate.

_"I don't care. He killed my mom."_

Scott blinked a few times, desperately trying to erase what lied behind his eyes.

"You saying if you handicap the younger me, I won't go to war?" Bucky's quiet voice almost didn't reach Scott's ears.

"Yeah," Tony confirmed. "My father had been in the works of making a bomb before Fat Man and Little Boy, so if they were desperate enough, they would turn to him to drop bombs on their sorry asses."

"But—"

"Okay."

Scott's eyes widened to saucers when Bucky backed off.

"Bucky...?" Steve stared at his best friend with shock.

"It won't hurt him, will it? The operation?" Bucky asked, looking at Stark.

"No," Helen instead answered as Stark pulled himself away from the crowded spot. "Just blind one eye and make his ear go deaf in the other and that will be enough to exempt him from military service."

The one-armed man nodded. "Good."

When Scott thought back upon it, remembering history text books from his middle school days, he and some other classmates that were doing a group project talked about the drafting in the military. Young men forced into military service, threatened with jail time should they refuse.

(It wasn't that he wanted to go, it seemed, Bucky just didn't want to let someone down who had been repeatedly refused to join the Army and be of service because of his health. Funny how one was rejected while the other was forced to join.)

As they discussed more over the numerous scenarios of "what if's" and "what could be's", Scott looked around for a pin to use to keep his bandaged hand together. Finding a cabinet, he opened it and peeked through it until he found a small box of pins. While getting that done, his eyes wandered over the medical wing, feeling a sense of awe because he was standing inside the former Avengers' Tower.

And then his eyes fell on something that made him do a double take, making sure he wasn't seeing things.

It almost blended with the whole clean and shiny steel-filled room. There was an immaculate shine to it, unsoiled by whatever dirty and muck it would come across should it venture outside. Scott felt momentarily saddened that such a fine-looking thing would meet damage, rust, and all sorts of ugly things upon contact.

It looked like a trophy, rather than a suit.

And the longer he stared at it, the more he felt like this suit was not good for being out in battle.

It was... just too shiny?

Like it was perfect-looking than any of the other suits he had seen on television or recently. This thing looked to tidy for his tastes, and Scott recalled how stylish and bright and vibrant the other suits were. This, however, was just blank. It was cold, it looked absolutely cold, like it would match the mood of the person whose heart fell deep into Antarctic measures.

It looked unfriendly.

It looked like it was suppose to be better than all else and everyone around it.

It looked...

"Scott!"

He jumped, startled by the call of his name as the others were leaving the medical bay. Scott huffed and followed them, heading towards the elevator to continue their talks about which doctors should come in, how many should be in on the operation, and what sort of security measures they needed to take to keep the whole thing quiet so it wouldn't spread. Just as he was about to step out, Scott couldn't help but glance back at the suit that was in the corner of the medical wing. It would make sense for Stark to have most of his suits get implanted with medical equipment that would fit in the suits, making sure all was sterilized and prepared on the go.

Still, something about the suit rubbed him the wrong way.

Huh. Funny.

With that, he turned away and caught up to the others.


	15. I Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone points a finger and I see it, but if no one says nothing then I have to look for it.

The room was quiet and dark, but the light provided outside in the hallway allowed it to keep the room dimly illuminated so the shadows would not be intimidating enough to anyone who had trouble sleeping.

Bucky watched two tiny chests rise and fall, their eyes shut as they dreamed away in the depths of their minds, untroubled by whatever was brewing outside their safety and comfort. The tiny scrap that was his best friend was filling out with more fat, losing the unhealthy appearance and looking more like any other toddler. He had seen the two boys in Stark's lab, laughing and playing as they gathered tennis balls for one of the robots that acted more like an excited dog than some piece of working machinery. They held no fear or pause, both of them carefree and playful as they took over the lab by a storm, causing several of the people in the room to crack smiles despite the suspension between them all.

Stark, Bucky observed, just worked and ignored the children that pestered and pawed at his legs. He would often force Richards to entertain them because he had to concentrate on the machine or talk some more with the doctor lady, Helen Cho, about how to deal with his younger counterpart.

Steve was not happy. Bucky himself wasn't all eager about the idea, but it was better to leave the kid with something so he wouldn't end up being drafted into the Army and eventually leading to his awful fate in the hands of HYDRA.

Yeah, younger him not going to the war would not stop younger Steve from joining the SSR. And yeah, younger Steve will still end up a super soldier... but if Bucky wasn't a prisoner of war then there would be no reason for Steve to go running off into enemy lines to rescue the people trapped in the factory. Steve would be nothing more than the country's glorified mascot in all his star spangled glory, making a fool of himself while he punched Hitler time and time again.

The little boy sleeping on the bed didn't deserve that kind of life ahead of him, so although taking away something from him was horrifying and wrong, in the end, it would benefit him; it was going to save his life. This boy was going to grow up alongside his family, he was going to stay away from the bloody fights in the muddy trenches, the dirty camps in the cold front, the dusty fields where miles of bodies served as a feast for crows, and he was going to continue with his life like a normal person.

Steve, however, kept on dogging Stark, continued to persist. Steve even used the argument of the Butterfly Effect on Stark.

Because if not Bucky, someone else would be the one strapped on the table in Zola's lab.

Stark, however, countered that with an argument of his own: Bucky was Zola's only successful experiment that passed the trials and survived. All other prisoners who served as test subjects to the scientist died, but Bucky had been the only one to pull through. So with no Bucky, there would be no other super soldier, and the rest of the prisoners would be casualties of the war. Higher ups would simply order people to drop bombs on the bases, ending Johann Schmidt and Arnim Zola for good.

HYDRA would end right there, Zola never being recruited by SHIELD and destroying everything from the inside as the evil ideology spread itself to return the masses of loyal followers.

It hurt to think about the Howling Commandos, never getting the chance to be free, and Steve was distraught over the idea of sacrificing his old team in such a heartless way. Stark shared no sympathy for him, merely looking at him and Bucky with cold eyes.

"You already sacrificed one team before, why should it bother you if you screwed over another?"

It was a blow below the belt, the kind that made you stop and lose the ability to breathe for a moment before all the hurt caught up to you. He was beginning to see why Steve had a difficult relationship with Stark, and Bucky was tempted to punch the ass in the face for his callousness, but he forced himself to take the high road. The tension between them all was so thick that he could almost taste it, breathe it in, and swallow it down his throat.

A shadow entered the room, and Bucky tensed for a moment before calming himself when he realized it was Richards. The man, too focused on the children, barely noticed his nearly obscured presence until he turned around.

"Hi," the super soldier could only murmur.

The doctor swallowed, nervous as hell to be alone in the same room as Bucky. "Hey."

There was something in the man's hands. Clothes, he noted, the very same ones the children were first seen in when Bucky saw them on the flat screen. They didn't look ratty or wrinkled, instead they looked washed, dried, ironed, and stitched up nicely. Their little shoes stacked on top of the pile, and Bucky felt his hand twitch in the sudden desire to reach for those shoes and feel the size of them.

(Newspapers in Stevie's shoes because they were a size too big for him.)

"The machine's ready, then?" he asked.

Richards nodded, the movement slow like he was scared he might provoke an aggressive response from Bucky. "Yes. FRIDAY just powered it, and Stark had Ms. Maximoff sealed inside Dr. Banner's room."

Explained why Bucky he hadn't seen the dark-haired girl for awhile. Vision, the red android that had been shadowing Wanda, was not only the one guy to make sure she didn't try anything but was also the only person capable of finding the correct timeline the children had originally come from thanks to the fancy head jewelry on his forehead.

Richards sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the shoes to the side and separating the clothes that belonged to their respective owners. It was hard to remember who's clothes belonged to who's considering they were almost the same size and either way, it wouldn't fit right on little Steve.

"You're okay with people messing around with your younger self?"

Bucky blinked, looking up and not being able to meet Richards eyes, the man staring down at the small clothes in his hands.

"You're okay with Mr. Stark doing this?" Richards asked tersely. "Sometimes I wonder if Stark is even thinking this through."

He didn't trust a lot of people, had been hurt by many with blank faces who held unknown agendas, but Richards... Richards really cared, _a lot_. He spent time with the boys when Stark ignored them, he fed them, clothed them, bathed them, and did his best to keep them occupied despite his lack of experience. Bucky had seen it back in the lab when Stark informed the others about the surgery, Richards reluctant at the idea of Bucky's  younger self being operated on to take away half his sight or half his hearing (or both of each). 

"I... I just want him to be safe." Bucky said, looking past Richards and towards the dark-haired boy sleeping on the big bed. "I don't want HYDRA to get their hands on him."

No more words were spared, and Richards went back to shuffling through the children's clothes, folding them up neatly because he probably didn't know what to do in a situation like this (and really, who did?). One dress shirt slipped from his grip, and Bucky couldn't help but reach for the fallen article and hold it in his one hand. Gosh, they were so small, Bucky thought with an ache in his chest, staring down at the little shirt. What he would do to keep them safe, warm, and happy like he had seen them when they were playing around inside the lab. Something so small and innocent momentarily taking off the heavy weight that clung on his body when he watched the two boys, and for a brief moment of weakness, Bucky wished he could keep that.

About to hand back the shirt, Bucky stopped himself when he saw a tag stitched up inside the collar of the shirt. Pulling it closer to his face, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and read the words.

"Angel Guardian Home."

Richards' head whipped up, his bespectacled gaze locking onto Bucky for the first time. There was a pause in the air, the words slowly sinking in to the two men sitting inside the boy's borrowed bedroom.

"That's—" Richards blinked, staring at him. "That's a Catholic orphanage in Brooklyn."

Bucky's memories were muddled when it came to his whole history growing up in the neighborhood of Brooklyn, but he was certain for one thing about his history: he had never been an orphan.

The doctor stood up from his seat on the bed, eyes glazing over before they trailed over to the slumbering duo. Bucky slowly rose from his place on the floor, hand still clutching the material with his heart rising because there was something here, there was something that did not fit in this picture. The both of them migrated out of the room, into the lit hallway in fear they would cause a commotion which would awaken the boys.

"When did you and Rogers meet?" Richards asked, voice low as he closed the door of the room. "Wasn't it at an elementary school?"

A crack in the dam, water threatening to force itself inside and fill everything up until all the air was swallowed. Bucky tried to think back, tried to recall the faint pictures that haunted him in the back of his head, little pieces slowly connecting together to create a memory.

"I was probably eight or nine when I met Steve." he rasped out, opening his eyes and meeting Richards' own. "I... I never seen him before that."

"Then how did you know that was him?" the doctor demanded, stepping towards him. "How did you know that was Steve Rogers you saw on the _television_?"

"I..." Bucky inhaled sharply, looking around the hallway as if something would help trigger his memory. "Maybe I saw a photo. I think there was pictures of him when he was young. His ma—"

"Are you absolutely sure?" Richards demanded.

"I just knew it was him!" Bucky hissed at the doctor, waving a single hand. "I knew I had seen that kid somewhere, this sick-looking little boy with bright eyes and could barely fit in his shoes and clothes! I used to see Steve like that before this whole super soldier bullshit, so even when I never met the kid before school, I have seen and known that look anywhere that day onwards!"

Richards then briskly walked towards the elevator, most likely intent on telling Stark and the others the news of this discovery they accidentally came across. With one lingering look to the closed door, Bucky followed close behind the doctor.

* * *

The end of the road was near, and Tony could only feel an emotion that closely resembled with contentment. Hours after getting Helen to the Tower, he left her under FRIDAY's care to get in contact with a few doctors that she believed would keep themselves quiet. He also left her to deal with Rogers since the man couldn't believe a word coming out of his mouth, not that he cared about what Rogers thought anymore, it gave him too much of a headache to care. Hopefully the words of some other person will do much better than whatever words Tony's own could ever offer because it was just another repeat in this building: ignore whatever crap was spewing out of Tony Stark's mouth and only listen when it's interesting to you.

The others remained out of the way which was good in Tony's books. Wanda cooperated with the whole thing, and he couldn't help but feel irked that the young lady had previously all been for causing mayhem when Tony placed her under house arrest after the incident in Lagos. But in the end it didn't matter. None of it mattered, anymore. A lesson Howard taught him: you could say sorry but it wouldn't change a damn thing, so move the fuck on with your life, son.

All that mattered was that the boys that have been clinging on to him like little monkeys were going to go away, and he could only feel relief that Rogers and Barnes, along with the rest of their ragtag group, would finally face their crimes. T'Challa would get some shit for harboring a couple of fugitives just 'cause he felt a little bad for chasing Barnes like a cat to its mouse, but Tony was going to walk up to him and show the former prince just how much deep shit he was in. His actions were going to burn a lot of bridges in Wakanda's peace treaties, and Tony was going to be there when the King realized it as he faced the United Nations.

It had been, admittedly, a crazy few weeks since all this happened. It seemed almost a long time ago that he had flew into the burning Baxter building, faced the fire, rescued civilians, and found Richards amongst the burning wreckage with the two time-traveling babies sitting on his lap.

(They were looking at him like he was their hope. _Both_ of them were.)

There was still some other people who opposed such operations to be done on the young Barnes. Barton and Wilson had no doubt heard from the mouth of Lang what was going to happen, and FRIDAY had reported to him about their attempts to try and contact him or climb their stairs since the elevator refused to work for them, but they never got anywhere. Tony made sure to enforce the air vents to prevent Barton from trying to crawl his way through. Finally, the two men backed off when they realized their words would go unheard.

Tony would have been relieved with the quiet, but...

"Are you out of your bloody mind?!"

Rhodey also caught wind of this. Tony just sighed and threw back another chug of scotch, not meeting a furious Rhodey's gaze.

"Cutting open a kid just 'cause you're pissed off ain't the way to do it, Tony!"

He reached for the bottle to pour himself another glass—but Rhodey, out of anger, swiped the bottle and allowed to crash on the floor in splintering bits, spilling the liquid and the glass all over.

"There's a special place in hell for people who waste good scotch."

" _Goddammit_ , Tony! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?! This is a little boy we're talking about!" Rhodey roared, his voice echoing around the empty apartment.

"A little boy who we both know is going to grow up and become a brainwashed Rambo robot." Tony snapped, standing up from his leather recliner chair and pacing around the room. "You ever stop to think that this can end for the sacrifice of an eye or ear? Huh? No more HYDRA, no more brainwashed lunatic assassins, and none of this bullshit where I have to live with these nightmares in my head or where my best friend can't do shit because he's _paralyzed_!"

Rhodey exhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to stare at him.

"This is too much of a risk, Tones. We don't know how this could turn out for everybody. We don't know what could happen if you go through with this." Rhodey paused, eyes narrowing at Tony with sudden suspicion. "You're taking this quite personally, Tones."

Goddamn honey-bear was too perceptive for his own good.

He didn't want to think about the video. He did not to see it again because he would see the reflection in Rhodey's eyes, and that's when it would truly destroy him. He didn't want Rhodey to see him crumble apart like paper against a powerful gale. He would die before any of this came out to the open; the media playing this scene like a broken record, eyes of the world soaking up the ugly way his family ( _his family_ ) were killed before they turned to him. Reporters demanding answers from him when he is too busy choking on thin air because he can't—this was one thing Tony was going to keep to himself. Rogers and Barnes already took that from him, but at least they will take this to the grave as he would, too.

Tony rested his hands on the wheelchair's handles so that he was at eye-level with Rhodey. Both men stared at one another, looking deeply and seeing the change between them that threw their world off axis since that day Tony walked away from the charred camp of the Ten Rings.

"All I know is that no matter what, the people I care about are gonna be the ones that walk away from this okay if I do this." he said to Rhodey, squeezing the armrests in a white knuckle tight grip.

"Tony," warm hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and Tony could no longer feel the death grip he remembered from Barnes looming over him, but the welcoming touch of a long time friend. "Bad shit is always gonna happen, man. Whether I walk or wheel myself, this isn't gonna be a choice we'll like. You go through with this, you ain't gonna forgive what you've done to accomplish the goal."

Wrapping a hand on one wrist, Tony exhaled and ducked his head.

"C'mon, Tones. Use your brain. You can always think of something else, can't you? You're Tony motherfucking Stark." Rhodey gently shook him, lowering himself to catch Tony's eyes. "Let's buy Helen an apology dinner for making her come all the way over here for nothing, yeah?"

Before a word could come, before Tony could really feel the warmth that would truly melt away the ache that throbbed in the back of his head which had spread deeper into his head because of this whole affair he was in—FRIDAY's voice slammed him back to reality.

_"Boss, Richards and Barnes are heading up to meet you."_

"Tell them I'm busy." Tony snapped, pulling away from Rhodey's embrace.

_"They said it's an emergency."_

"Me dealing with those idiots 24/7 that it's starting to be detrimental for my health is an emergency."

"What's wrong, FRI?" Rhodey asked, wheeling towards the elevator.

_"It's about the children."_

The mention of the boys made the engineer throw his hands up in the air. "It's always about the fucking children! Jesus _Christ_ , tell Barnes to fuck off with his whining! Better yet, take him to wherever the hell Rogers is so they can cry about it together."

Instead of doing any of that, Rhodey allowed entry of the two with a traitorous press of the elevator button, and the two men came on to his floor. Tony immediately went for the bar, looking for the most expensive and dirties rotgut he could find in his collection to serve the purpose of having his mind leave behind his body and shooting off into space like Team Rocket. Tony Stark in a drunken stupor always tended to drive people away faster than they could in sports cars.

"Mr. Stark, do you recall Rogers and Barnes ever being orphans?" Richards asked, breathless like he had ran all the way here instead of taking a quick trip to the elevator.

The question made him pause, hand grabbing the neck of some Jim Beam bottle and staring at Richards like he was some sort of demented alien.

"Richards, what the fuck are you babbling on about?"

"Look at this," Barnes stepped up close, a small shirt dangling from his fingers.

"I don't like being handed things."

Barnes looked like he was going to grab him and bash his head against the counter when Richards, who had been around Tony long enough to catch his quirks, grabbed the piece and placed it on the counter. Along with the other clothes, Tony looked down to see similar tags stitched inside their clothes: Angel Guardian Home.

"They're not orphans." Rhodey said, reading the tags. "Didn't Steve's mom die when he was, what? 16? 18?"

"And my family—" Barnes spoke, but he wasn't given the chance to finish.

"Look, this is," Tony cuts off Barnes, looking at the other two men. "This is _something_ , I'll admit. But this isn't enough to dissuade the operation. Besides, for all we know, these could be donated clothes. Don't churches donate things for families who don't have enough? They weren't exactly living a time period of luxury."

"But what about Steve meeting up with Barnes?" Richards waved a hand at the one-armed wonder. "He said they didn't meet until they were older, not as toddlers."

"He said, huh?" Tony snorted. "They lived in Brooklyn, same street neighborhood, of coarse those two came across each other, you just caught them when they were paired up in a playground or something, Richards."

"You've gotta be kidding me." Barnes grumbled, sending Tony a dark look. "You don't know shit, Stark! We don't know for sure if there's even families waiting for them! You don't know for sure if—"

"If what? If you'll be exempted from the Army? You were drafted, Barnes. It was ordered that you go to the Army or face prison. Given what an ass-kisser you are when it comes to Rogers, and vice versa, it's pretty obvious which option you were going to choose."

"You don't know that!" Barnes yelled.

"Oh, _please_. Everybody knows the history behind the two of you fucktards. Always joined at the hip like somebody stuck hot glue to your asses, always coming to rescue _poor widdle_ Stevie, always gonna go chasing after some idiot who thought his way was better than everyone else's just 'cause of some souped up bottle of steroid mojo while you're handed sloppy seconds!"

Tony had walked around the counter, stalking towards Barnes while the other man was shuffling away from him, his barrier getting hammered with every word slung his way that it was seeping through the cracks and destroying Barnes little by little. Rhodey was now watching them like a hawk, a realization of something far deeper than what was on the surface making the gears in his head turn because this was not Tony being a bitter ho about his fight against Rogers—this was personal. This was Tony angry as hell because someone went behind his back and shoved a knife into his spine.

This was like the aftermath of Stane, but much more outward rather than hiding it behind half a dozen of bottles.

"But hey!" Tony exclaimed loudly, making Barnes flinch at the loudness. "If you're cool with mini me turning into HYDRA's plaything, then be my fucking guest."

"I just want him safe, Stark!" Barnes shouted.

"Then this is the only fucking way!" Tony retaliated, taking a threatening step towards the one-armed assassin. "You can either have him go on with his life with a disability or he becomes the attack dog that you are! Make a fucking choice, Barnes, before he has to be dragged to your level because you were too fucking scared to do _shit_ about it a second time around!"

"Fuck you, Stark..." the man said, his voice cracked and his face flushed like he's about to burst into tears.

Some time ago, Tony probably would have backed off, if in an awkward manner for making someone come close to tears. But right now, all Tony could do was sneer at him with open contempt, scoffing as the heavy breathing that emitted from Barnes. Just because Rogers fell for that sob story didn't mean he was going to do the same.

"Okay, okay, back off! _Both of you_!" Rhodey ordered, wheeling himself in front of Barnes to keep from Tony doing anymore that could provoke a violent response from the super soldier.

"FRIDAY," Tony called as he turned away from Barnes. "Make sure to go over the materials we have in the medical bay. I want the operating room ready for use by the time the surgeons arrive to the Tower."

 _"Yes, boss."_ came FRIDAY's gloomy tone.

"Do me another favor, sweetheart," Tony said as he walked towards another room. "Make sure to keep the trash where the rest of the garbage are."

* * *

Trash.

(Dirty, smelly, unwanted, ugly trash)

Bucky stared at the floor of the elevator, jaw locked tight together as he waited to reach the floor where everyone else was. Richards and Rhodes remained on the floor with Stark, probably to talk some more about what to do with him and everyone else as preparations for the surgery would start soon.

He felt the floor beneath him subtly shift to a stop, and the doors slid open without a hitch, and he stepped out in complete silence. The lounging area looked clear, deserted even, and Bucky wished he could be taken to the kids' room because, just for a moment, he wanted to remember their cherub-like faces and listen to their soft sighs as they slept peacefully.

He wanted to remember them before Stark had him locked away for good in a place where he never saw the light of day again, never saw people, forgot what he looked like, could hear nothing but his screams, and just rot away inside a cell that would never open back up again.

Bucky reached for a couch and flopped himself over the soft material, head turned sideways as he stared at the New York nightlife taking over just as the sun barely disappeared in the horizon of the west. Not once had he ever visited Brooklyn, the place watched by people looking for their wayward Winter Soldier after the fall of the Triskellion and one of its head figures. He had been tempted, but the danger had been too great that he took off the moment he finished his tour in the Smithsonian Museum. 

Europe, he had a lot of memories.

(Most of them too ugly for him to want to think back on.)

His eyes scrunched closed, wandering back to the two boys that slept a floor above him.

He thought he could handle it, he thought he would be okay for his younger self to not be entirely whole, but...

That moment when Richards said about a possibility to change the course where there was no need to go through with the procedure that rendered younger Bucky handicapped, Bucky had jumped for the opportunity. Most of his life, he carried that metal arm as a reminder that he was not whole, that he was just this thing, like a toy, that was stuck with a replacement arm for the time being until they could upgrade it with better features. He hated it. It made him feel less human because of it.

The other him, that Bucky would always be viewed as a lesser person because of whatever deliberate disability they gave him.

He wanted that kid to live a better life, free from the horrors of war, free to be a skirt-chasing Casanova, and free to be himself... but like Stark said, the cost for such a dream would need to be paid in a hefty price.

_'Fucking Stark.'_

This was already fucked up enough, Bucky barely grasping onto his own mind, but he knew that he shouldn't feel angry about Howard's son's hate for him. Yet the anger remained; angry at Stark for giving everyone shit when it had been only Bucky involved, angry that his argument fell on deaf ears with the supposed genius, and angry that this seemed like it was going to get worse from here on out.

The elevator gave a sharp  _ding_ , signalling new arrivals. Bucky did nothing as the doors rolled open then closed, he could hear faint footsteps as they made their way towards the kitchen, flicking the lights on and getting comfortable on the stools.

Minutes passed and there was paper being shuffled, but it was mostly quiet. Bucky closed his eyes, counting the beats of the heart from across the room as whoever was on the other side went through whatever they were doing. Soon, another pair of feet came into the room, making their way into the kitchen where the paper shuffling went abruptly quiet.

There was a stand still. And then—

"What? You gonna tattle on me, Sam?"

Lang.

"Where'd you get that?" came Sam's question, regarding whatever Lang had been shuffling around on the kitchen table.

"Everett Ross."

There was another pause.

"I'm... I'm not gonna be dragged down into this shit hole with Steve and Barnes." Lang bit out. "I'm not going to be looked at like some accomplice to a murder."

...

"All this time you, me, and everyone were told that we were standing up against the agendas of other people but... But God, Sam, did you guys even read this? Did Steve's word on this thing get you all to turn a blind eye against this?"

Sam still said nothing. No witty comeback like he usually had when Bucky pushed his buttons.

"We were told to be afraid of following others unknown agendas, but we failed to see what was right in front of us."

Bucky scrunched his eyes closed and bit his lip, seeing that closed look on Steve's face when Stark turned to him, his teammate who he had been with since Steve woke from the ice and since the attack on New York, never breathing a word about his best friend taking the life of his family.

(Stark was an ass, but he did not deserve that.)

"I'm not going to continue on as a blind man, Sam." Lang said. "I'm going to read this, I'm going to ask questions, and I'm going to get fucking answers because hell if I trust anyone to tell me anything when they're only feeding me small bits and pieces!"

Bucky waited with baited breath.

"FRIDAY?"

_"Mr. Wilson."_

"Can I get a copy, too?"

_"Right away, Mr. Wilson."_

There was a screech of a chair against the floor that signaled Sam taking a seat with Lang. The paper shuffling returned, and Bucky could only quietly listen in when the two men read over the thing, waiting for the extra copy of the Sokovia Accords that Steve had thrown away in order to pursue him.

The elevator doors opened with a familiar bell sound that was starting to annoy Bucky, but he remained quiet as the new footsteps walked straight towards the kitchen with what felt like some sort of purpose.

"Hey," the Black Widow greeted them with a dull voice, whatever she was carrying was heavy as it slammed onto the kitchen table top.

"Hi," came Sam's lackluster greeting. Lang didn't bother at all.

"Barnes," she called out. "There's one for you too, if you want to look."

Bucky quietly sighed when the kitchen went immediately quiet.

"He gonna run off to tell his bestie, or what?" Lang scoffed.

An ass-kisser is what Stark had called him, always sucking up to Steve because he was patriotic symbol of greatness that Bucky wanted to have for himself, that he was just a sad little shadow compared to the real deal. Lang's taunt of him being some sort of mindless follower of the American Road that was Steve Roger's path left a sour taste in his mouth, it prodded at his red buttons, and locked his jaw in irritation.

He was not some ass-kissing little shadow of Steve that will run to him when somebody said something mean.

Sitting up and climbing off the couch, Barnes strode towards the kitchen and noisily slammed his ass down on the chair between Sam and the Widow, glaring at Lang who, with balls of steel, met his with a sharp glare of his own.

Bucky Barnes had a mind of his own, and no HYDRA asshole or best friend of his was going to decide what he did with his life.

"So," Bucky licked his lips, staring down at the pile of booklets on the table. "What am I reading?"

When they got started, none of them seemed to want to stop. Pens writing side notes, every one of them asking questions about a clause that had them scratching their heads which FRIDAY, the AI, had to explain to them since there was no lawyer present to tell them. FRIDAY had also taken note of some of their concerns, keeping tabs on them so she could relay them to Stark, Rhodes, Everett, or anyone of high authority.

FRIDAY wasn't like Zola.

While she had previously expressed icy politeness to them earlier when back at the Avengers facility due to the attack on her boss, she was very patient with them, and was very caring towards the children given that she went through measures to make them feel safe when no one was around. Bucky remembered how the children were at awe of the blue holographic spheres the AI conjured in order to drive away the fears of the children.

Zola had once been a person, had a body and a heart and a mind of his own when he had been alive, but he was a monster that took apart Bucky and created him the monster he was now. FRIDAY was a computer program, the Widow told him, young and new since the previous AI had become part of Vision. FRIDAY was a machine, an algorithm that Stark created, but she was way more human than Bucky had ever known in HYDRA.

(FRIDAY was _nothing_ like Zola.)

"FRIDAY?" Bucky called up to the ceiling.

_"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"_

"If I should sign the Accords," he could feel everyone's eyes on him. "Do you think they will give me a few favors?"

_"That depends; what do you want in exchange for your cooperation, Mr. Barnes?"_

He stared down at his booklet.

"Can I get help with what's going on in my head?" he asked.

A pause.

_"Before Zemo had come into the scene, boss and Rogers were at a meeting."_

Sam looked at the Widow, and the redhead shook her head.

_"In the condition that Rogers signed the Accords, you were to receive professional help on your psychological issues. You were going to have the world's best in helping you shake off the grips of HYDRA's conditioning."_

"Then Steve blew it." Lang finished.

"... Why?" Sam asked, voice small.

_"Because Rogers did not agree with Stark's method in placing Wanda Maximoff under house arrest after Lagos."_

Sam made a quiet curse, Lang not bothering holding back, and Bucky just stared ahead of him because there was the familiar feeling again that he felt since Siberia. It was small at first, but then as time went on the more they spent around Stark's group, it was like hearing the other side of the story and finally connecting with the missing pieces. And then it was like that time when he got that cold slap when that little boy called Bucky and Steve bullies.

Steve had gotten so used to holding authority that it was almost like he was clinging onto it, never intending to let it go despite what many people, including Stark, the most arrogant person of all, were telling Steve.

"I don't suppose there's a way to make up for the political damage we've caused, is there?" the redheaded Widow asked, hands clasped together as she stared down.

"I got a feeling that this is just a band-aid compared to the backstab Stark got." Lang remarked.

"FRIDAY?" Bucky called out again.

_"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"_

"Do you think Stark will stop the surgery if I promised to sign the Accords and make up for the mess we caused?"

It was a sad and pathetic effort, a childish one, but it was all Bucky got if wanted to get Stark's attention off his younger self and aim it at him. There had to be other ways, and if he offered himself as a bargaining chip, then so be it. HYDRA may have forced him into servitude with years of torture and wiping his mind away until he was blank, but here he was willing to offer it without a fight.

"That will not be necessary."

All four heads whipped towards the entrance of the kitchen to find the red android standing there, silent and unnoticed until he called attention to himself. Bucky had almost reached for his side and just barely remembered that he was unarmed, no gun or knife to strike at whatever startled him.

"Vis?" Sam stood up.

"It seems the problem with the children has... become more complicated than originally anticipated." Vision told them.

"What happened?" Bucky swallowed heavily, dreading the answer.


	16. Sepia Photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world was empty, not quite white and not quite black, but you rose like a red and gold sunshine.  
> An Interlude.

All the mommies and daddies couldn't keep them, said the Pastor.

Mommies and daddies had to find a way to make the crops grow and bring food for everyone to eat. They needed to keep the cows and goats and chickens from going to Heaven because there was nothing for them to eat like the rest of everybody in the whole world, and while he still didn't like drinking milk all the time, that didn't make him want to wish for all the cows to go away. He couldn't help but wish his mommy and daddy still took him, too, because he would have helped them. He would have!

But the Pastor said it was a long and hard road for their mommies and daddies, and that's why every one of them had to stay behind. When they were older, said one old nunny, they would understand.

But he didn't want to wait. He wanted to go and help already.

"No, no," the nunny told him, her wrinkled hands wrapping around his skinny wrists when he went to follow the other kids outside with their buckets of gardening tools. "Stay inside, child. Don't want you catching a fever."

He hated being left inside the big house when everyone followed the nunnies and Pastor to plant stuff in the yard. But even when they dug deep into the dirt and planted the seeds, it never grew like everyone wanted it to. It made the Pastor sad, and he could only hug the Pastor's legs because the nunnies said that comfort was sometimes a good medicine than the yucky stuff they made him swallow when he was coughing real bad.

The Pastor hugged him just as tightly, like he was afraid to let go.

"God will provide," whispered the Pastor in his ears. "He will not let His poor children be hungry."

He made sure to eat up all his cheese and milk later on that night, even if his stomach twisted something awful inside his belly.

A few days after his second birthday (a nunny gave him something sweet that she called a chocolate candy), someone went to Heaven.

Felicia was sometimes sick, like he was, and she had to stay inside the big house when others went outside. But then she started to get more and more sick that she couldn't eat any cheese, bread, or drink her milk even when the nunnies and Pastor tried to. Felicia cried to her mommy and daddy, wanting for them to come back, but nobody but the nunnies and Pastor stayed with her.

So when she cried herself to sleep, she never woke back up again.

They all went somewhere he had never been, but there was a lot of rocks with scribbles on them. There was rocks that looked like angels, angels he had seen on the pictures when a nunny was reading from the Bible.

There was a hole in the ground, and then there was people putting a wooden box inside the hole. The Pastor was crying, and it made him cry because there was a lot of sad faces from the nunnies and the older kids.

Heaven was said to be nice, but it sounded so far away. Felicia went to Heaven, they said, but he couldn't go there to see her so they could play some games while they were waiting for everyone to come inside the big house.

The Pastor said that everyone's time would come one day, but he prayed that it would not be so soon like it had been for Felicia.

* * *

One moment they were driving down the street after they were told to leave the junkyard or they'd get a beating, and then suddenly the car stopped. It was quiet besides the breathing, and he looked out his window from the back seat next to the luggage he had to be squeezed in with until finally his papa stepped out of the car. He watched him walk around until he came in front of the window and grabbed him under the arms and lifted him out the car easily.

His papa was a strong man. He'd seen him carry heavy things, and his papa would always get back on his feet when he dropped something, always doing his best even when his papa got yelled at by mean people.

Papa carried him between buildings and sat him down on a small staircase. Mama's scarf that she knitted for him with her stockings was wrapped nice and snug around his neck, and papa was bent low so that he could look him in the eye.

"You'll wait here for papa, won't you?"

He nodded, feet kicking because anything his papa asked of him, he would do it. He loved his mama and papa, so if he was gonna be a good boy, he would do as they ask. He would be good because he didn't want his mama to cry or his papa to scream again. He didn't want to be called a bad boy for wanting to eat a little more than what was given to him, so he was going to be a good boy for his mama and papa!

And then papa turned away from him. Watching his papa walk away made him want to cry out, but papa said boys shouldn't cry. His papa stepped out from between the buildings and towards where mama was waiting inside their car. Mama looked at him, like she wanted to tell him a secret but couldn't. She was crying, and seeing his mama crying made him want to cry too, for some reason. He wanted to run to her arms, but he promised his papa that he would wait for him to come back. Maybe when they come and get him, they'll be more to eat than what they had last time.

He watched them go.

And so he waited.

And he waited.

And waited some more.

And waited a little more.

And waited even when it got colder.

And waited when it got darker.

And waited when he started to get scared.

And waited when he called out to his mama and papa.

And waited.

Where was his mama? And his papa?

And because he waited, crying, scared, alone, cold, and hungry, someone found him.

And they yanked his scarf that his mama made for him.

He wanted it back, cried for it, but then he fell hard on the floor, wheezing through his teary eyes because that person kicked him. He watched them walk away with his scarf, coughing and crying.

The next morning when he woke up on the staircase his papa told him to sit and wait on, somebody was trying to take away his coat.

He ran to the nearest car and ducked under, not wanting to get kicked again because it hurt so, so much. But then those long arms snatched his wrist and pulled him out, and they stomped on him before they ripped his coat off and left him lying there. Crying again.

He was so hungry, and he was cold.

There were people who picked through the stinky cans, dumpsters as his mama told him when she pulled him away from grabbing a brown and squishy-looking apple. He was a good boy for his mama, always did as he was told.

... but he was just so hungry.

Someone with two big dogs on their ropes made mean barking noises at him, forcing him against the wall that he cried and wet himself 'cause he was so scared (papa had yelled at him for wetting his blanket, said that they couldn't buy more to keep them warm). They all laughed at him until they had to run because some big person with a big knife came running at them, yelling awful things. He ran as fast he could, far away as he could.

Then he fell, but he couldn't pick himself up.

He was hungry, he was cold, and he was so scared he wanted his mama to hold him again and for his papa to turn around and come pick him up like he promised he would.

Hearing someone coming, he curled up and waited for all of it to be over.

* * *

There was a new boy the next morning.

He was all dirty, shaking, and crying like something was hurting him real bad. The nunny who went to get more milk for them had found him lying outside of the houses where nobody lived because nobody had the money to live there anymore.

The boy cried and cried until he couldn't anymore.

They gave him cheese and milk and he ate it all up. Usually the nunnies and Pastor would give you a what for because someone didn't give prayers first before eating, but they didn't say anything and just let the boy eat while they took his dirty clothes and gave him a good bath.

The boy was a scaredy-cat, always turning into a ball when somebody bigger than him came too close.

Feeling sorry, he decided to show the boy something really swell since one of the older kids gave it to him after they left the big house to find work.

It was a picture book, a comic.

The comic was neat because it was stuff about the future. People flying in rocket ships, traveling through things that were faster than cars, and there was high towers that touched the sky.

The best part of the comic, he thought, was the flying metal man that went and saved people when they needed saving.

So one night, while he and the boy were getting settled down for bed time like the rest of everyone, they both clasped their hands together and prayed for one wish to God.

..

And God heard them.

When something big and blue had come out of the street while they were playing, and they saw it and couldn't help but want to touch it because it was so beautiful, and when they fell inside that it started a scary fire, when they cried and coughed, and wished for someone to save them;

A metal man came and saved them.


	17. Boogey-Man II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am no longer your knight in white shining armor,  
> For the sword I pierce you with is the wrath you conjured in me

There was nothing but utter silence after Vision delivered his full report.

It was like a fallen pin could have caused an avalanche from how soundless the entire room was.

Bucky stared at the polished surface of the mahogany table, eyes distant and face completely blank like he had taken the backseat while his body went to autopilot, but Natasha could see from the white knuckled fist sitting on his lap, a slight tremble to them, that he was still with them. Steve sat beside him, as per usual, but his eyes were focused on Vision, who stood in front of the meeting table rather than taking a seat with the rest of them.

Richards had his hands clasped together, his mouth hidden and his eyes staring at nothing like he was lost in the whole thing. T'Challa and Sam shared grim looks, mouths tight and arms crossed over their chests, hands gripping their arms like they were trying to restrain themselves. Scott looked ill, no doubt his paternal instincts kicking in as his eyes were taking him into an imaginary nightmare where Cassandra Lang was living in a world where the Dust Bowl had been longer and hit not only the American agriculture but everywhere else in the world, too.

Clint was no different from Scott, and she could see him thinking about what that would have meant for his family as well. What use was a tractor when the dirt was too dry for him to plow? What use were his vegetables when the seeds would only die just a few short hours after they were planted into the earth? What use was the farm if there was nothing for it to grow from? His animals would die of starvation, he would become penniless without the income of his crops, and his family would be thrown out of their home with nothing but their luggage and a few personal belongings.

The dying vegetation created a global panic, farmers losing their lands and life's work to the parasite that took their resources within a week of it infecting their fields and gardens.

Since then, people all over had to band together and figure out a way to destroy the parasite, putting research and gathering many volunteers to great large farm lands. It was difficult as the years went by, the populations of animals decreasing from starvation or being butchered for their meat to keep people's bellies full, the population losing money when they couldn't afford to keep their properties because the high tax payments went into the funding of keeping the farming program strong, no matter how bleak, and others falling into depression of the horrifying reality that they took their own lives.

Parents giving up their children to the orphanages... a majority abandoning them to save themselves.

Little Steve Rogers never meeting his mother when she left him as a baby in the arms of the Pastor as she wanted her son to live while she went away to try and help the sick who slowly killed themselves trying to make things grow again.

Little James Barnes abandoned by his father because they couldn't handle having one more mouth to feed, his mother having long ago killed the baby sister inside her belly to save it from such awful times they were living in.

Little Steve growing up surrounded by other orphaned children, eating nothing but bread, cheese, and milk because it was all the Pastor and nuns could get them to eat. The meat too expensive and the fruits becoming rare and exotic luxuries for those who even had the money.

Little James being repeatedly beaten as others took advantage of his vulnerability, stealing from him until he was nothing but a shriveling mess. Eating rotten things from the garbage to keep himself from starving, hiding and fearing for his life so quickly after he was left alone.

Little Steve watching other children slowly die, almost having a few close calls himself, always attending each and every funeral to say goodbye to his playmates.

Little James, scared for his life when people loomed over him like monsters from a children's nightmares, body aching and bruised.

At least now she (and the others) understood the younger boy's reaction to them outside of first scaring the crap out of the poor kid. When her eyes trailed back to Bucky, it wasn't so hard for anyone to guess what he was feeling about the entire thing his young counterpart had to go through.

George Barnes had been a good father to his son, once upon a time, but somewhere else, he was a desperate man who slowly fell apart from within the dying world and so left everyone behind him, including his family. Bucky's eyes glazed over, tears refusing to be shed for the man he called his father, this father who left his son alone to die while he tried to save himself and his mother.

Winifred Barnes was just as guilty, being compliant and quiet as she was led away from her baby boy. She could have refused, she could have fought back, she could have tried everything in her power to make it work somehow because George was just falling into a depression himself, but the heavy burden of caring for a child proved to be too much for her.

George and Winifred Barnes had been good parents to Bucky Barnes and his three younger sisters; the other George and Winnie had abandoned what they deemed a liability to their survival, killing the life inside while leaving one to keep moving forward. She could imagine the conflicted feelings tearing through Bucky, his mind remembering his precious family while his ears rang from the horrific story of the other James' family.

(Natasha didn't even bother to look back when she left Tony behind.)

It was suddenly with almost equal tandem that everyone looked towards the head of the meeting table, like children and relatives putting their attention to the head of the house.

Tony, throughout the entire report, remained silent and stone-faced.

His four fingers slowly and quietly tapping the surface, his jaw locked, and his eyes staring at nothing and ignoring everyone in the room around him, allowing only Vision's words to pass over and sink in as he patiently took everything in like a sponge absorbing water. His eyes were glazed over, and she didn't doubt that there was hundreds of things going on inside his mind, and if there was anything she had learned the past few days, it was that he was really done with this.

(She had fucked up. Steve and Bucky had fucked up. Everyone had  _fucked up_.)

"Tony..." came Rhodey's quiet but gentle verbal prodding.

"How long did these agriculture-killing parasites last?" Tony looked towards Vision, eyes sharp.

"Until 1936, I believe." Vision replied concisely.

"Is there still a Jew-hating asshole in Germany who makes war?"

"He believed the crop killing was the fault of the Jewish farmers, so yes."

"Do the Allies and Axis exist there?"

"Yes."

"Do the rugrats live to get to see it?"

There was a pause.

"... Yes."

"Well then," Tony stood up. "Meeting adjourned."

The reaction was immediate. Natasha closed her eyes just as Steve and Bucky shot to their feet, Richards ducked his head in exhaustion, and the others watched the entire thing unfold with an air of trepidation. Before Tony had a chance to open the door and leave the room, probably to meet with Helen since she said she was finished with picking a team of surgeons and was prepared to call them over while Tony got gag orders ready for them, Steve was quickly right next to him and slamming the door shut.

"What the fuck does that mean, Tony?!" Steve demanded, angry as hell.

"Language." 

She almost forgot how Tony just loved to rankle on people's nerves, no matter the danger it presented.

"Jesus Christ..." she heard Clint mutter nearby.

"Goddamn you, Tony!" Steve roared, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Back the fuck off, Steve!" Rhodey was rushing towards the two, but T'Challa was quicker and Steve was roughly pressed against the wall.

"WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!" Steve screamed at Tony. "YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO PLAY GOD OVER THEIR LIVES!"

Tony stared at Steve like he had said something funny and he was trying so hard not to crack a smile.

"Rogers," came the quiet and calm voice of the engineer that the tone send tingling chills down Natasha's spine. It was unnerving. "I'm not playing God. All that time while you and your little secret boy band had run off to Africa, had been sitting around and hiding in your little holes, everyone else here had to put on their grown up pants and work. Work with a city because a squad of policemen had lost half their men because a super refused arrest, hospital funds for the people who got caught in the car crashes or when the tunnels collapsed on top of them, some funeral attendance to agents who lost their lives when some psycho in a red Henley was unleashed inside their headquarters,"

His calm and gentle-like demeanor was like watching a parent deal with an unruly child, and Natasha could tell she wasn't the only one who had the hair on the back of her neck standing. T'Challa was looking at Tony like a mongoose to a snake, eyes tracking its slithering as it came closer and closer to him whilst he was holding Steve. Steve, meanwhile, looked like all the anger and fight was draining out of him because he was just as unnerved as everyone was feeling when Tony slowly approached him. The shame in his eyes there, and if Natasha looked over, she could see Bucky curling a little like he had wished he hadn't gotten up when the mention of his trigger attack at the German HQ was thrown at his face.

These incidents were all thrown right back at their faces, Tony grabbing a chunk of salt and just scraped across the bleeding, festering, not quite healed wounds.

And they all felt the sting.

"I had to work with Ross, you know? That guy that tried to kill Bruce? I had to work with him because he wanted to kill you and everyone, and he only gave me a handful of hours to stop you. I had to play nice with a man who would rather have all enhanced people killed on the spot. I had to face a population of angry reporters and journalists that were pinning this blame on me because I was suddenly the mastermind of the whole Avengers saying  _'Fuck You'_ to the entire world because none of you couldn't reign it in and listen to the people. I had to face the scorn of my former teammates when I went to the RAFT after they got thrown into a prison because they were following your orders. All of which, may I add, could have been entirely avoided had a certain  _someone_ not let the chance to subdue you turn their cheek because they were somehow compromised at the thought of putting you in cuffs."

Natasha bowed her head, biting the bottom of her lip, and she could feel Steve's, Bucky's, and T'Challa's eyes on her.

(She thought she had made the right call. She thought Tony would help her. She thought wrong.)

Tony was finally close enough that he and Steve could feel each other's breaths brush against the other softly, Tony's eyes burning dark holes into Steve's shameful ones.

"I had to hear from the mouth from another party about the whole truth. I carried that guilt about how I had kept things from you... when all this time, you were keeping things that had great concern to me _from me_."

Natasha couldn't hear Steve breathe.

"I had to watch something that's been haunting me for almost my entire life be slapped in my face without warning, and when I looked at you, I just _knew_. I knew it, but I wanted to hear you say it out of your mouth. And when I saw and heard everything, I just wanted to take everything you loved and rip it apart, slowly, and make you watch as I crushed it out of existence. Because if I just blasted it with a rocket, or shot it with a repulsor, it would have ended too _quickly_ for me. No, I just wanted to take my time taking it apart."

She couldn't hear Bucky breathe, either.

"But instead, I had to wait for a rescue team to pick me up after you disabled my suit. I had to deal with the mess after everyone jumped ship that was heading towards the iceberg of responsibility. I had to suddenly take responsibility for a bunch of children I never want to deal with because some idiot was messing around."

She wasn't breathing.

No one was, at this point.

"So, when you come up in my face and ask me, the guy you lied to, backstabbed, threw to the wolves, and attacked, what kind of a person am I to play God?" Tony shook his head while he gave a small laugh, creeping towards the edge of unhinged. "I will tell you: I'm not playing _God_."

And then everything stopped, and all she could hear was the red poison ebbing from his mouth when he said these next words;

"All this time, I've been playing _HUMAN_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I don't have to tell anyone which quote belongs in Superior Iron Man?


	18. La La Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I put my hands over my ears, and shut my eyes, and crouched to the floor, and drowned out the world with my voice:  
> Would everything be fine again?

"What did you _do_ to him?"

Steve raised his eyes to meet Rhodey's. Ever since that meeting, Steve had been left trembling, from fury or fear, he had no idea. By this point, it all felt the same to him. His hands continued to shake, his mind repeating the words again and again like a broken record.

Tony had been right. Because after Steve and everyone ran off to Africa, Tony had stayed behind and had to deal with a fuckton of angry mobs pointing fingers and spitting at his shoes when there was no other punching bag to aim their frustrations on. He trembled at remembering the calm and soft words directed towards Steve by the engineer, appalled and frightened that such emotion were directed towards him with malicious intent found in his words that were delivered in such a mellow voice that anyone could have mistaken for Tony having had a good day with a fresh batch of coffee in his hand.

It was like there was _something_ standing in front of him that held the billionaire's face, used his voice, and warped their past into something insidious.

What was worse was the hypocrisy thrown at his face.

("Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things.")

And now Rhodey was looking at him, eyes glaring with intensity that Steve could feel it crawling all over his skin that there was goosebumps. Tony had left them all behind, with Richards, Vision, and T'Challa following after the man. The Air Force pilot slammed the door shut before anyone else had a chance to leave, putting himself between them and the exit, and while it could have been physically easy to push the man aside, no one couldn't bring themselves to move when Rhodey demanded they sit down, shut the fuck up, and give him some goddamn answers.

"Steve Rogers, what the  _hell did you do_?" Rhodey snapped. "Tony won't say shit to me, T'Challa is a shady motherfucker I can't take him seriously, and this secretive bullshit you keep holding between you and Tony is really pissing me off, so you better fucking answer me when I ask you:  _what the fuck did you do to him_?!"

Best friends always knew when there was something up, something amiss when the person they had been looking after was in a funk they couldn't seem to come out of. When Steve thought back on it, when he was still burning on the fuel of anger with Tony, he thought that Tony would have done the same if Rhodey had been in Bucky's position. But, the more he thought about it, the more he had time to process it, the more he watched the television and watched riots all around the world condemning superheroes for invading their countries, cities, and villages, and leaving destruction, and how Stark Industries had faced the brunt of the attacks while trying to help people, Steve knew he was wrong.

Because unlike him, Tony would have found various ways to help Rhodey. He would have come up with solutions, he could have calmed the furious public with promises to listen and do better while helping his best friend get better with professional help. Unlike Steve, Tony knew of his position, where he stood in the world, and how he could navigate in it because he was always thinking ahead.

(Steve was always stuck in one place. He was always looking backwards.)

"Go ahead, Steve." he heard Clint say from behind him, still sitting on a chair. "Go ahead and tell him."

"Give it a rest, Clint, please." Natasha said, looking more and more drained.

"Oh, no, don't try to be all sympathetic here." Clint shook his head, lips curling at her. "Why don't you let our fearless leader finally tell the truth for once instead of doing the dirty work for him like you had been all along behind Stark's back."

It was like somebody gave another backhand to her again, and Steve wanted to stand up for her and tell Clint off because it wasn't her fault. He wanted to keep it quiet, he wanted to deal with this with as little people involved as possible—but he didn't. Instead, Clint was looking at him with those scornful eyes that he had been seeing so much lately. The distrust between them more fractured than ever after the Civil War.

"Stop hiding behind people and say something for yourself, Steve." Clint spat at him. "Because you owe us that. You owe us for having to give up our freedom in order to cover up those bloody footprints you wanted to erase for your _best friend_ , because you couldn't have the balls to say shit the first round to _anyone_!"

He did not want to be here. He did not want to see these many eyes looking at him. He did not want to have so many people turning against him. He did not want to talk about anymore of what he did; he wanted to go home, he wanted to be with his team, he wanted to eat some Chinese take-out and laugh about what was on tv, and he wanted to follow everyone when they all went running to bring the fight to the asshats who were looking for one.

"Wanda was right, you know?" he heard Clint's words distantly, like he was far away. "Stark stood his ground when shit came flying towards him, when she called him her parents killer, and he _took it_. He just took it. Have the fucking courtesy to do the same."

(Oh Steve, oh dear Steve, he was about to break after a few short days. Funny thing is, Tony had gone through this recycle since he could talk.)

"December 16," Steve heard his voice break the air, and he opened his eyes to look into Rhodey's. "1991. It wasn't an accident."

And when the words came out, and when Steve told him what he saw in that base in New Jersey, and then when he told Rhodey about Zemo, he watched Rhodey's face fall apart. Steve watched the two men, close and sometime call each other big brother and annoying kid brother: and Steve saw why. Saw how Rhodey's face trembled, his lips biting back the screams that wanted to come out, watched the trembling turn to stillness when those eyes looked past him and towards where Bucky was. Bucky who was sitting alone, Bucky who felt cornered, Bucky who waited for a suit of armor to attack him.

And Rhodey looked at him with the same heart-broken eyes, the disappointment, the pain of feeling the knife dig into the bones of his spine as it worked its way to kill him until the blade ran into the back of his heart—and then it was gone. The walls came up, and the guards pointed their guns and swords at him.

There was no need to spare words, and there was no need to fight each other.

Rhodey was finished, and he left them without a backwards glance.

And soon, he found himself sitting alone on a chair in the room, everyone having left after Rhodey disappeared down the hallway. Steve dragged his eyes across the room, spotting Bucky sitting there.

It was not out of friendship like it used to be, it was not out of a sense of duty like he had once long ago, what Steve saw sitting across him was not his best friend from childhood but a man who was simply there because he had nowhere else to go. If he had found the strength, Bucky, too, would have also walked out of the room with the others, also leaving Steve. And then the familiar wave came: that weakness he hated.

(Bucky always had to look after poor, widdle, skinny stick-figure Steve Rogers.)

For the first time in a moment of fragility: Steve wished Bucky had left him alone.

* * *

"Are there any other changes you like to add along with this _plan_ you have for the children?"

Tony didn't blink at Vision's subtle sarcastic jab, knowing that he was attached to the children as they were to him, Richards, and for some bizarre reason beyond Tony's comprehension, Tony himself. He still couldn't wrap his noggin around that. The only time kids really came up to him was when he was wearing his suit or when he was visiting the Stark EXPO. Nowadays, people liked to scream in his face, almost frothing at the mouth because of what the Avengers had done.

(That's all there was: screaming.)

"What? Like send in a cure for their veggie problem? You said they figured it out later, right? No need. They're humans, they know how to adapt." Tony waved his hand.

If there was one thing humans knew how to survive in situations like these, they adapted. There was tons of casualties, people dying all around you and barely survivors, but those survivors had developed an immunity to the disease that wrecked their world. The survivors would rebuild after learning how to avoid a second wave, and it would be a constant repeat of the cycle.

"But you have no problem with blinding or leaving a child half-deaf."

The tingling of annoyance was starting to appear. First Rogers, then Barnes, with Richards and Rhodey all for stopping the whole operation, and now Vision. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Rogers' angry voice and Barnes' glassy eyes directed towards him, telling him to stop or pleading for him to find another way.

"I'm just not taking any chances. It's called being careful." Tony griped, nearing his office where Helen was waiting for him.

"It wouldn't matter if you blinded or deafen him, Mr. Stark," Vision said.

"And why's that, Big Red?" Tony turned the corner, a hallway from reaching his destination. "Did the military get desperate that they started recruited the disabled? Well then, I'll have to come up with something, now won't I?"

Whatever reply he was expecting, it wasn't this;

"It will not matter because James Barnes will be killed."

Tony froze from taking another step, body jerking forward before going completely still. Both man and android stood in the hallway, a few feet away from the office where they could see on the other side of the wide panel window were Helen and Everett. Everett, looking impeccable as ever despite not having slept in the past 42 hours (in fact, barely anyone had caught a wink of sleep since Tony had awoken from his coma), and Helen looking like she wanted to take a year long vacation from this craziness. Everett made himself comfortable by sitting on the edge of Tony's desk, hands neatly folded over his lap of his Armani two-piece gray suit, and Helen was sitting on the office chair, dressed just as professionally with her pencil skirt, high heels, and silky navy blue blouse.

Tony stared at them, watched them, but his mind could only think of Vision's revelation.

"You said they wouldn't die from the Dust Bowl," Tony said, his voice hushed, and his eyes taking in Everett's slight trembling of his shoulders and his smiling face towards the brilliant geneticist.

"They survive the Dust Bowl, yes." Vision confirmed.

Tony could guess the other cause of Barnes's counterpart's demise.

"Mini Barnes get blown high sky from German tanks, or what?"

"Not exactly, but yes. He was killed in the war." Vision walked around from behind Tony, eyes also focused on the pair inside the office. "He, along with a few others, were captured by a larger force of German soldiers; he was promptly executed by a firing squad."

It was quiet, but not so stifling as it had like in the meeting room. Now that he was outside in the halls of his Tower, it felt suddenly somewhat noisy as they both stood there, watching Helen and Everett interact with each other. They looked rather cozy, and Tony would have loved to have said a thing or two about Helen's taste in men, but he couldn't move, couldn't think past the image of a World War II soldier who was pressed into a wall or tree before having his body filled with bullets, and didn't... couldn't...

(Why should he care? Barnes was out of the picture. He was never going to hurt his family. Maria would live another day to play a beautiful piano piece, and Howard would be there in person to see what sort of trouble Tony would get himself into just to get the old man to yell like a banshee.)

"Must suck for Rogers, then, huh?" Tony huffed, lips curling into a crooked smile.

"He wouldn't get to find out."

"And why's that?"

"Because he too is deceased."

His eyes slowly blinked, again comprehending the words, studying the meaning behind them, and then branding it into his brain so that it finally hit him. His eyes looked away from the office and towards the bright and inhumane eyes of the red android standing next to him. 

"Abraham Erskine took his family and escaped the Nazi regiment, HYDRA never became an organization due to the death of Arnim Zola from sickness during the Dust Bowl and Johann's Schmidt losing influence from the Third Reich." Vision explained, eyes never leaving Tony's stunned orbs. "Steve Rogers was rejected by the Army, never was recruited by the SSR because it never existed: he never became the super soldier everyone would know as Captain America."

"... So how...?"

(Why did he care? He shouldn't have cared.  _He didn't care_.)

"Murdered."

Murdered. Steve Rogers, that little scamp that had, only many hours ago, had been clinging to his pants, screeching loudly (before coughing his little lungs out), and climbing on DUM-E like a derange little monkey, had been murdered.

"You know how Steve Rogers is when it comes to bullies," Vision's gaze flicked towards the office, his hands tucked behind him. "It was an accident, truth be told. Someone was rude, he challenged them to a duel in order to correct their behavior—only this time, when the man began to beat him down, he didn't know when to _stop_."

Scrawny, sickly, pale, weak little Steve Rogers, repeatedly being punched in the head, kicked in the ribs, and just easily overwhelming the tiny blond despite his best efforts to fend the person off. Tony could see it in his mind, this big and hulking figure, slamming his meaty fist down, crushing the bones beneath them with ignorance.

"By the time the man stopped, it was too late. Steve Rogers had been beaten to death outside of a restaurant. They only found his body a few days later when several people complained about the stench coming from within the alley. They never found his killer, the man fled from the city out of fear."

They stood there, this time the silence threatening to swallow Tony up like quicksand that threatened to blind, deafen, and drown him.

* * *

The sun rose, climbing itself out of the sea, past the clouds while coloring the rest of New York in orange sunshine.

Tony watched from his place on the steps of his pent house, eyes red and head pounding with the familiar ache of having consumed so much alcohol in such a short amount of time that left him not dizzy, but utterly focused on the picture of the sunrise ahead of him. The city lights dimmed as the world grew brighter, the world awakening from slumber and coming to life as the new day began.

It was like all the days of him coming back to life had finally caught up to him, the throbbing from his neck and the creak of his bones, the days and night he spent awake with memories that he wanted to wash down along with his Johnnie Walker.

God, he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't.

It was all fucking Richards fault, that little fucking shit. He ought to call Richards and follow through with that promise of choking the ever living shit of that bastard for putting him through this freak show ride.

Weeks spent fixing that glorified time machine, _wasted_.

 _"Boss,"_ FRIDAY's soothing voice was a welcome to him.

"Yeah, sweetie? Got any news for Daddy?"

_"The children are heading your way."_

Fuck. Last thing he wanted to see was those two, Vision's story leaving him in an emotional roller coaster that he couldn't compute with, so he turned to drinking to deal with it.

(He did not care. He did not fucking care. It wasn't his problem. It was not his problem.)

_"Colonel Rhodes is taking them to meet you."_

Where was his pal, Jack Daniels?

When the elevator opened, thankfully there was no parade of noise as Tony expected when dealing with two toddlers and an angry guy in a wheelchair who liked to run people's shoes over for a new living. Tony listened to the sound of wheel tires traveling past him, heading for his kitchen with a single pattering of tiny feet following closely behind. From the reflection of the polished floor, Tony saw a tiny blond head sticking out from Rhodey's lap, getting a free ride while the other boy walked close by. There was the sound of the fridge opening then closing, a pantry being raided, cupboards being opened then closed, drawers opened then closed, utensils somewhat loudly scraping with plates, the rustle of plastic before a rain of tiny droplets fell inside bowls, and then a cap opening as liquid was poured in, until finally the fridge opened and closed again.

Rhodey bear, feeding the kids some breakfast cereal.

How domestic.

No wheels coming towards him, no voice reaching out for him, Rhodey was just there. It didn't feel like those times where Rhodey would glare holes in the back of his head, waiting Tony out, allowing Tony the courtesy to blurt out something to finally break the ice and make the conversation Tony would always want to avoid when it came to certain hot topics he sometimes refused to touch on. Instead, it was like a reminder, not the forceful kind, just a little sticky note that sometimes Tony used in his personal workshop to remind himself for things when he didn't want to depend on FRIDAY.

It was like Rhodey was saying: _I'm here_.

Rhodey's body was half broken, but he was here to make sure the kids didn't spill their soggy cereal and make themselves dirty as they ate away at their breakfast. Rhodey being incredibly gentle, voice quiet and warm.

He didn't let the fight break him, no matter what. He didn't let his place on the chair break him.

(Tony wasn't that strong. He could never be strong as his Rhodey bear. He could pretend, but he could never be like his big brother.)

And he could just see it without looking, Rhodey protecting the children that were destined to die.

(It's what he wanted, wasn't it?)

...

"Sweet pea?"

_"Yes, boss?"_

"How we coming along with that case against Secretary Thunderpants?" Tony asked, watching the sky turn brighter.

 _"The legal team have gathered enough evidence to incriminate Secretary Ross from his seat in the UN."_ FRIDAY replied.  _"It'll take a little more time to place him under custody."_

"Good girl."

Tony paused, listening to the sound of approaching tiny footsteps. He could feel their presence standing directly next to him, the child shy of coming close because they could sense something like little bloodhounds.

(Tony was seven-years-old when he noticed the slight quake in his father's hand, fingers twitching, and he looked up to find his father's eyes staring down at him with a blank look. Howard said nothing, didn't yell at him, he just stared at him with unseeing eyes and somehow Tony knew there was something on himself that made his father later lock himself up in his basement and not come out until a week later.)

"Meta mun," said the small voice next to him.

Little Steve was barely three-years-old and his speech was a bit underdeveloped. FRIDAY noted this and informed him, Richards, and Vision about it, and Tony could only chalk it up for the reason that the orphanage had been full of  _ ~~dying~~_ ~~~~children that the caretakers couldn't give them proper attention. They had their little Bible stories, but never the opportunity to learn speech for the youngest ones.

"Meta mun." the boy repeated, voice closer.

Tony closed his eyes, wishing he could collapse and let either Richards or Rhodey deal with this.

The elevator rolled open just as tiny fingers gently folded over a single finger of Tony's. He rolled his eyes opened and looked at the tiny hand that grabbed a single finger of his limp hand, and with how tiny and pale the toddler was, Tony was sure it was tiny Steve.

(Tiny Steve was gonna fight, he was gonna fall, he was gonna die, and make his grave an alley wall.)

"Tony,"

He pulled his hand away, tiny fingers slipping their hold on his single digit, and he rose to his feet.

"Vision told us the rest of the story."

The toddler crept away from the source of the voice, but he didn't hide. Instead, he put himself between them and Tony.

(Gonna fight, gonna fall, gonna die, make a grave an alley wall.)

"I'm... I'll sign the Accords. Just please, don't send them back there. I—I will face the consequences of my actions. I'll share all the fault of everyone else, they don't deserve prison."

"How noble of you," Tony murmured, still staring out the windows across the room from him.

"Everyone is gonna sign, Stark."

Tony turned away from the windows, and he could see somewhere in the crowd that Richards was there, watching this spectacle like an outsider watching a show that was in the furthest of its season and it left the viewer confused of the plot direction.

"FRIDAY?"

_"Yes boss?"_

"Create two new identities for the brats, and look for a discreet agency."

"... Tony?"

He didn't care, he'll tell himself later on, he was doing this because everyone will badger him even if covered his ears, closed his eyes, and cried, "lalala~"

(Fight, Fall, Die, Alley Wall.)

"Put the kids up for adoption."


	19. Ghost Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be not afraid of the dark, but of what is hiding inside the darkness.

Tony looked at him like he had admitted to being in league with HYDRA.

"Come again?"

It was morning, Sam and Wanda (the latter of which was finally released from the Hulk's cell, but was very well informed thanks to FRIDAY's constant updates) were making breakfast. Several of the others did not stand idle (Rhodey and Richards sitting on a separate table away from the rest of everyone), preparing pancakes, waffles, coffee, orange juice, milk, oatmeal, eggs, and fruits, the entire picture painting a bizarre scene that Steve honestly thought he would never see again after all that's happened to them. Especially after their brawl back in Leipzig, Germany.

(Most  _e_ _specially_ after Siberia.)

No longer did a young Steve Rogers or James Barnes exist amongst them.

Grant Joseph Lannon, a combination of Steve's own middle name, his father's first name, and his mother's maiden name. The name would be used to keep track of the kid's progress as he grew while simultaneously keeping his true identity secret from everyone else. Tony gave them strict instructions in addressing the little tyke by his new name, letting the new identity sink in and eventually the boy would grow accustomed to it enough that he would respond when someone said it. It was a little daunting, throwing away an identity like that, but Steve understood. He was only thankful that Tony allowed him that tiny mercy of helping name the boy.

Bucky's younger counterpart was also dubbed a new name: Jason Lee Proctor. There was already enough people named ' _James_ ' as it was according to Rhodey, and Tony absolutely refused to have the kid keep his middle name because, in his words:

"Barnes' nickname is so fucking ridiculous I refuse to acknowledge it! That's a name you give to a pet beaver or some snot-nosed kid who has freakishly huge teeth, so _fuck off_!"

His best friend had slumped a little in his seat, undoubtedly embarrassed and wanting to disappear elsewhere after that statement. 

So Jason it was. The middle name, Lee, was thrown in because Tony was feeling particularly vicious, giving the boy the name of a sniper who killed the president of the United States, which led to Tony wondering out loud if that assassination was also the Winter Soldier's doing. Steve bit his bottom lip hard when he saw Bucky slump more in his seat, his single arm tight with tension and his face a dark curtain at almost every verbal abuse thrown at him. Steve would have punched a tooth out of Tony, or stormed off in an angry trek towards the gym where he would rip into the endless supply of punching bags. He had to put his hands under his legs to prevent the urge of following with the former option in Bucky's honor. Richards, thank goodness, broke the tension by giving the boy the surname Proctor, after a character he once watched from a high school play about a witch hunt.

It was astonishing, Tony not giving the children the boot back to their own world, not caring for their life until Vision revealed the horrifying fate awaiting for them ahead. Tony, who was so angry, was willing to let them go back to a dusty world, something Steve was sure his former teammate would have never done had he not turned on him, had not sic Bucky on him, had he not let everyone else tear into him. When he heard of their fate, Steve had been prepared to grovel like a dog at Tony's feet. His own makings of this situation so out of control that Steve couldn't see the end of the escalation.

However, Tony ordered FRIDAY to create fake but authentic and convincing birth certificates of the children, their social security numbers, and their pictures taken to be integrated into the current data banks. FRIDAY was also to research a few reliable adoption agencies for which the children would be sent to find new homes, new families, and new lives for themselves.

Tony had sent a relieved Helen Cho back to her place in South Korea, paying the flight fees as an apology. Tony gave FRIDAY a task of pulling several strings to ensure the good doctor would get the best, and most expensive, restaurant service when she planned on having future business dinners with potential clients that would make her Cradle a major breakthrough for people with excessive burn scars, survived horrific acid attacks, had lost patches of their flesh from various accidents or attacks, and so on. Stark Industries would have easily supported her with donation funds, but should the slightest implication of Ultron almost succeeding in using the Cradle to create a being of destruction leak out, they would have shut down both Helen's project and ruined her career as a promising individual of the science-medical community.

Steve watched Tony, who was sitting at the couches, looked incredibly awkward when the two boys joined him. The older man had pillows to his side to prevent little Ste— _ahem_ —Grant and Jason from getting too close to him. The flat screen was on, Tony stopping on a channel where Neil Degrassi Tyson was discussing just how old the earth was. Grant and Jason looked on with awe, eyes bright and wide as they watched the host seemingly travel through the speed of light, pointing out the cosmos and nebulas that were scattered outside their solar system.

(Thor liked watching anything involving Tyson, sharing his own commentary to the others when Bruce stopped on the Discovery Channel.)

There was something so sweet about seeing your younger self who was still learning the ways of the world. Because even after all they had faced, they still knew how to stop, take a breath, and enjoy the moment they were in. Steve never forgot how loud they were laughing inside Tony's lab, tiny legs clumsy in their runs, Grant always tripping over his feet but never letting his smile die and disappear like old faded photos. Jason, still afraid, was smart enough in certain things, waiting for help when he needed it rather than following Grant's example of trying to do everything by himself.

The thought of never seeing the boys again, watching them be sent away, suddenly made Steve stand up from his seat, walk over to the trio in the lounging area and tell Tony, "I want to adopt them."

There was a blink, then another, and few more, like Tony couldn't understand if he was talking the English language or something else. Steve kept a respectful distance, not wanting to be in his space again after what happened in the meeting room, still not quite seeing Tony Stark there in front of him anymore. But just for awhile, after Tony ceased the planned surgery and agreed that Grant and Jason were better off staying in this world, Steve saw bits and pieces of the old familiar haughty mechanic who tricked Steve into standing outside with an antenna in the rain.

"Excuse me? Did you just say you want to adopt these rugrats?" Tony blinked at him. "Am I actually hearing that right?"

"You heard right." Steve said, crossing his arms.

"Ah, I see. Want to follow Barton and Lang's fine examples in being father of the year, huh?"

The mark hit their intended targets, the men in question stilling at Tony's sharp words. Steve didn't have to look to know that everyone went quiet again, Scott looking shame-faced and regretful of ever joining his crusade against the Accords while Clint was just barely keeping it together. Their choice in leaving behind their families because Steve made some calls for back-up was going to forever haunt the two men, and Steve could only feel the wedge between him and everyone else grow a little wider with each day, with each discovery, with each  _lie_. And they were also feeling pretty guilty for having given Tony some trash talk when the billionaire faced them all back in the RAFT.

(It was all for Bucky, his mind would whisper in his ear, Bucky's safety was all that mattered to him.)

"If I signed the Accords, if I promised to face trial, if I—"

"No," Tony cuts him off, shaking his head. "Nope. Rogers, that's now how it works."

Even with all the hateful words, with his teeth bared and ready to rip people's throats out and bleed them dry, even with all the intention of putting them down like animals, Tony never did so around the children. It was the kind of restraint Steve felt both amazed and envious of, something he never knew Tony was capable of since the billionaire was known to take reckless risks here and there. Tony was pissed off, sure, and he didn't like the kids, that was obvious, but the older man was not going to scare the crap out of them. His hold on his emotions was so tight that when Richards had yelled in Tony's ears about him scaring the children, who had been standing at the doorway back in the facility, Tony had ceased all motion in trying to claw Bucky's eyes out.

Steve, on the other hand, went in running like a wrecking ball, creating an awful first impression on the boys.

"Let me guess," Tony tilted his head to the side, a motion which Steve paused when he saw the two boys also mimicking Tony. It almost made Steve miss Tony's next words. "T'Challa convinced you to sign the Accords in return that you would get some opportunities to defend yourself, your one-armed blow-up doll, as well as the others. Tell me if I'm wrong."

He wasn't wrong. Steve had stumbled across T'Chall and Scott holding the Sokovia Accords in his hands, there was a brief stab of hurt when he was told the others, including Bucky, were planning on signing. They were going to make up for their mistakes, they were not going to sink down in the hole that Steve dug himself in, so when T'Challa came to him with another copy, Steve opened it up and started to actually read it properly. FRIDAY brought up the notes that the others made when reading it, a sort cheat sheet for him to look to when there was something confusing he couldn't quite understand. He made his own notes as well, sometimes pushing until FRIDAY had to tell him that he was acting out of boundaries in some areas that seemed ambiguous to him.

"Huh. Cats really are manipulative assholes." Tony blew a short breath, a fake laugh found in the sigh.

"He's just trying to make this easier—"

"He's just trying to save his own ass! He committed a violation in withholding wanted international fugitives within the borders of his country, Rogers." Tony scoffed, straightening his head, Grant and Jason doing so as well. "Imagine how that would look for the diplomatic relations of his country. Imagine how everyone around the world would react to Wakanda hiding your asses after all the damage you've caused."

Wakandan politicians would be targeted in their embassies, any native that traveled outside would be met with hostility, and whatever businesses, peace negotiations, or relations that T'Challa had would be like watching bridges be burned for having given Steve sanctuary in his palace.

(Oh Steve, oh dear Steve, this was all for Bucky. Don't forget, this was for Bucky. Wasn't it worth turning the team against each other for him?  _Wasn't it_?)

"I really wish T'Challa couldn't have been able to convince you to sign," Tony feigned lamentation, picking up the control and changing it to a new channel when the credits began to roll. "It would have been a pleasure to watch you, Barnes, and Romanoff get burned alive by the public. There could have been pitchforks and torches, old school execution."

"I'm trying to meet you halfway, Tony." Steve whispered, voice weak and eyes suddenly bright, chest caving in from the hurt. "I'm trying to fix what I did to hurt you and Rhodey and Vision."

"It'll take a fucking miracle for anyone to believe whatever shit is coming out of your mouth, Rogers." Tony snapped, but not with enough force to spook the kids who were somewhat oblivious of the discussion the two adults were having over their little heads. "And guess what: I smell bullshit."

"Can you not say stuff like that in front of the kids?" Steve exhaled, eyes flicking towards Grant who was eyeing him and Tony. "Please?"

Tony blinked, giving Steve this unnervingly long stare.

" _See_ , there's our problem. Every time I open my mouth, you're not listening a damn word I'm saying." Tony shook his head.

And then he turned to Grant.

"Hey, booger face."

The tiny blond looked up to Tony, curious and completely unbothered by the name-calling the older man occasionally threw at him and Jason. It made Steve want to pinch Tony's arm for every little negativity he was aiming at the kids, but he couldn't complain now considering the older man wasn't going to throw them back where they came from. Small victories were going to become a common trend in this new relationship (if one could call it that) between everyone and Tony Stark.

"I _am_ listening. And I thought you said we should call them by their new names to get them accustomed to it." Steve didn't want to talk more about possible life imprisonment for his friends, looking towards the ever quiet Jason.

Jason was a lot like Bucky (in the behavioral aspect) that it was uncanny, but after hearing a story like his, he understood better than to go around doing quick motions or make loud noises that would startle the poor boy. There was the little grunts he would make, several whines from when he was left alone with Steve and his group too long without the presence of Vision, Richards, Rhodey, or Tony to give him confidence, and there was some typical toddler gibberish. Rarely ever did the boy speak, just half formed sentences, but that was to be expected by the barely four-year-old boy. Jason was reserved, shy, and incredibly wary of people, but Steve and Bucky could see he learning and discovering new things that caught his eye and little Grant followed his lead. 

Grant was just adventurous. No longer was he the scrawny boy Steve had seen on the flat screen in Wakanda, instead there was boy who had his baby fat from eating plentiful food provided by his reluctant caretaker and staying clean and healthy thanks to Richards and FRIDAY overseeing it. Grant still suffered the bad cough every now and then, but that was mostly thanks to being kept indoors most of the time, he probably had yet to come outside where there was grass, trees, sidewalks, neighborhoods, and streets. Grant, Steve thought with a small smile, was going to have the future that Steve didn't quite have the chance to live out for himself due to his sick and frail body.

"I said  _you_ should, I never so much as mentioned being part of the equation to this problem."

Suddenly, Grant sneezed, and there was a string of mucus dripping out. The horrified look on Tony's face was absolutely comical, but Steve dared not laugh. Rather, he reached for a box of tissues on the coffee table and went to work on cleaning Grant's face.

Tiny hands began slapping his own bigger one, and Steve quickly finished wiping away the mess so the toddler wouldn't end up crying.

"NO!" the boy yelled at Steve, glaring at him with a cute scowl and furrowed brows.

"I'm sorry." he could only offer his apology, but Grant wasn't having it.

" _No_!" he emphasized his displeasure by taking a swipe in the air, a show of what's to come the next time Steve laid a hand on him.

This kid really knew how to hold his grudge, and it broke his heart a little more after the scare he gave Grant and Jason. In fact, it wasn't just Tony, Rhodey, and Vision's trust that he threw away in his selfishness, it was everybody else. Steve should have not blown up in Tony's face about Wanda's house arrest, and when he thought about it, he felt stupid for it. She was not locked up in a prison cell, she was benched after the casualty in Lagos, and she was not in the right state of mind to go back in the field after something as terrible as that. Calling back Clint from retirement without giving too much details was another fault, leaving Clint to believe that this mess was because Tony chose the wrong side. Sam had the right to know that there had been a deal going on, a deal which involved getting free passes after the disaster that was Bucharest, but Steve kept his mouth shut and left Sam in obliviousness. Scott Lang was a new guy, and Steve only gave a half-hearted warning to him that he would be on the other side of the law...

(Remember Steve, it was worth it. It was worth saving Bucky.)

Hopefully over time Steve would prove that he was going to do better than the shabby attempts he had done earlier to everyone. He was not going to let a repeat of Civil War happen. The situation was bad right now, but if there was an inkling of chance in making it right again, Steve was going to take it.

The Avengers were currently fractured, and Tony was right, it was going to take a miracle for them to come back together, but by God Steve was going to fucking try.

"Steben!" Jason gasped in amazement, and both Tony and Steve looked towards the flat screen where there was a colorful cartoon playing with a cast of equally colorful characters.

"Per! Per!" Grant had shot up to his feet in excitement and was bouncing on the couch.

Steve couldn't help but watch the small spectacle with a smile on his face, so distracted by the innocent image did he almost miss Grant about to fall over the couch in all his jerky and clumsy bounces. Thankfully Bucky, who had been approaching the couch, had quick reflexes and gently pulled the collar of Grant's pajama shirt back, causing the tyke to fall backwards on his rear in a messy sprawl.

"Watch it, Grant," Bucky softly chided the kid, ignoring the little blond's hissy fit being thrown at his direction.

There was a plate of steaming eggs, pancakes, and bacon in his hand. Steve stared at it, not feeling hungry since he had eaten a bit of his fill earlier, and his eyes trailed towards Bucky who was standing awkwardly off to the side from the couch, eyes taking in the show playing.

"That's cute." he remarked, voice low.

"You know what else is cute?" Tony's eyes never strayed from the television. "These sad and awkward attempts in making conversations."

"I..." Bucky paused, looking down at the plate he was holding. "You didn't eat any. Thought you'd be hungry, Stark."

"Nice try," Tony removed himself the couch, stretching the locked muscles and joints from sitting in one place for a little too long. "Rhodey bear, make sure the children play nice. I got a couple of phone calls to make."

Steve was unsure if Tony was referring to Jason and Grant or Bucky and himself. His heart went out to Bucky's rocky efforts in making up for all the things he had done, and it crushed Steve that Tony was rebuffing him and everyone.

Wanda was cooperating with Tony, something that she was reluctant to do in the beginning but now more than willing after discovering Steve's silence in regards to Tony's family. Steve, as Scott had put it in harsh words, was trying to erase his friend's red ledger, trying to deny that his pal, his old Bucky, would ever do such a thing to Howard; Tony, upon hearing the accusation of being implicated in the death of the Maximoff parents, did not deny it. Natasha once argued that Obadiah had been dealing under the table, right behind Tony's back, and so somehow those weapons landed in the wrong hands... yet Tony still did not shy away from the fact that his weapons were still manufactured by his company, therefore the responsibility of multiple innocent deaths were on him.

Sam just started making breakfast because he needed something to do rather than sit still and be silent, kind soul that he was to offer his apologies through actions by making damn fine pancakes and omelets. The man was still wary around Rhodey, but one eye roll from the Air Force pilot and Sam was standing a little taller than he had the past week. The man also felt guilty for having dismissed Tony so easily when the engineer could have helped them out of their sticky situation, and Steve knew that bad call was eating away at Sam's conscious.

Clint was a hard man to work with when the guy wanted to be difficult. Stewing in his own fault for saying awful things to Tony who did not deserve it, coming to the realization of what his actions costed him, and being a surly asshole to anyone who was a lying super soldier or an owner of red hair within his vicinity. Even with all his snapping and snarling, Clint kept a careful distance from Rhodey and Tony, too ashamed that he couldn't get his words out, so he stayed silent.

Scott was really bitter, and he blamed himself and Steve for keeping him entirely out of the loop. He also blamed Hank for putting those anti-Stark ideas in his head, thinking that he could have walked away with a clear conscious had he not say yes to Steve and his faction. He sought company with Sam and Wanda, not being able to stand Clint's unwelcome presence and Natasha's inclusion in the whole Stark murder conspiracy.

Natasha just out herself to work. She worked tirelessly to read through the Accords, she had some (screened) meetings with Everett and T'Challa in future plans to get the Accords amended to the liking of the people who were planning on signing them. If there was going to be a trial that ended as a life sentence in jail, she wanted to make damn sure that she would at least be useful to the very end so the workload on Tony would slightly ease her mind when they shackled her.

(It was worth breaking Tony's heart, wasn't it, Steve?)

* * *

Reed was startled when Scott, who was walking beside him, jerked to a sudden stop without warning.

Both men were headed towards the bathroom, wanting to relieve their bladder after that big breakfast. Reed still wasn't all that comfortable around the people that had not long ago kicked his ass, but there was Taskforce agents, there was Stark's easy access to his suits, there was Vision, and there was T'Challa (though, from what he heard, that guy was kind of a loose cannon). And let's not forget FRIDAY. Scott, despite coming from the other side of the team, seemed okay enough to be deemed somewhat harmless. Scott talked about how he landed himself in prison after exposing VistaCorps.

He tried to hold himself back from feeling emotional ties to the people who took Captain America's side, but Reed couldn't help but listen as Scott talked about his ex-wife Maggie, his frenemy relationship with his ex's husband, and his dear Cassie. Apparently he had been recruited by Hank Pym, and Reed immediately knew that name from Pym Particles that had almost been overtaken by Darren Cross. Reed had read some of Pym's incredible work and thesis, and his excitement grew dimmed when he heard from Scott of Pym's hostility towards the Stark family. The man was already giving judgement before he even met Tony Stark in person, having once been acquainted with Howard Stark. 

"I think everyone should hold off their judgement until they actually know what's up, yeah?" Scott joked, but the bitterness was clear in his face.

Reed agreed. His rocky relationship with Stark was still in murky waters at best, but Stark had been leading him into places that he noticed few ever had the privilege of seeing or knowing. And he got to meet Vision, who was quite an extraordinary being in his own right.

Their circumstances could have been better at first meeting, but Reed was okay with this. He was terrified, and a little overwhelmed, but he was okay with this.

Back in the hallway they were going through to reach the restrooms, Scott was in the middle of telling Reed about one of his friends, Luis, who had a talent in exaggerating stories in over the top fashion, when the man just choked on his words and froze like a deer in the headlights when his eyes caught something. Following the stunned look, Reed's head turned towards the direction where Scott's gaze was on.

It was a suit. An Iron Man suit.

The likes of which Reed had never seen before in the many collections that Stark had under his belt.

"Oh, wow." Reed approached the suit, enamored by its immaculate appearance, so flawless and perfect that he felt a twinge of jealousy that Stark owned such a thing. 

"What the fuck is it doing in a  _hallway_...?!" Scott exclaimed, still stunned with the suit's appearance.

Reed looked back to the suit, finally realizing that the armor indeed looked out of place in the Tower's hallway. This thing should have been at least stored up in a R&D lab or Stark's personal workshop where he stored most of his suits. Still, it didn't hurt to look, right? He stepped closer, eyes taking note of every contour, every design, and feeling giddy when there was a flash of luminescent blue lights streaming  _inside_ the alloy.

"This is amazing!" Reed gushed, a grin spread across his whiskered cheeks. "How did Mr. Stark pull off infusing transparent alloy?!"

"That's so creepy." Scott remarked, eyeing the suit with a wary eye.

"And this fiber," Reed felt for the black lines of the suit, soft to the touch that this could be a problem if Stark planned on using a suit full of vulnerable areas. "This feels more like a flight undersuit."

"Uh, doc, why are you not freaking out that this thing is in the middle of the hallway!" Scott waved his hand wildly at the faceplate of the armor. "Is Stark trying to give us a heart attack by leaving these things around?"

"I, uh, he wouldn't leave these outside on purpose. If you guys were able to incapacitate FRIDAY for a brief time, why would he leave these suits out here for you to possibly sabotage or hijack?" Reed furrowed his brows, finally realizing the unsettling situation this was becoming.

They both shared a look then let their eyes drift back to the hollow armor standing off on the side. Reed knew that suit was empty because he had passed Stark inside a private room, talking through a speaker while looking through a holographic file that displayed the picture of an older woman. A pediatrician that needed to come in and give the children a proper look, some vaccinations, and create a medical file for Grant and Jason, and everyone else were either in the kitchen eating breakfast or watching Steven Universe with the kids.

So really, what was this suit of armor doing outside? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listing to a remix of Heartless by Kanye West (The Girl on the Train version), and then I was reading a Stony fic, and the whole thing made me cry. Someone please make a fanvid of this, I'll promise to write and update quicker!


	20. Nursery Rhyme Edition: Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of raining in trying to climb back up to the top where the sun shined.

How does one go about making up for being the very person who ruined someone's life by murdering said someone's parents, one of which, Bucky adds, he knew back in the old days? The answer: there was absolutely nothing Bucky could do about changing the past, no matter how much he wished he could, no matter how sorry he felt. Having his brain constantly fried, having his autonomy taken hostage, having his humanity stolen were arguments Steve always preached to him, that it was not his fault for what had happened during his time as the Winter Soldier. True or not, it didn't matter because Bucky still had the same face as the Soldier, and he had the same hands that were used to kill people.

He was still the same body that took away Stark's parents all those years ago.

Steve could say all he liked to ease Bucky's conscious, but those arguments were getting weaker and less convincing as time went on, and it was starting to sound more like Steve was trying to convince himself.

Bucky sighed, looking at the television but not exactly paying attention to what he was watching because his mind was elsewhere. He glanced over towards Grant and Jason, both kids dressed up in shirts and shorts, coloring with their coloring books some Taskforce member brought up to them since they didn't have any toys on them to entertain themselves with (since Stark presumed he would be sending them back in no time). Jason, however, was very subdued, barely picking up a crayon and only pressing lightly on the page.

Stark did nothing to hide his disdain for Bucky and Steve, and it twisted his inside a little more when the man ignored the boys that tugged on his pants, the way Stark appeared like a man who wanted to jump away but there was invisible bindings keeping him seated. Jason had been trying to show Stark a picture he drew, holding it up for Stark to see, but the man was on the phone and gave grunts of frustration when Jason was being persistent, so Stark removed himself from the room, leaving the boy standing there with a crushed expression.

It was so fucking hard to watch that, the little boy so distraught at being left behind ( ~~like his papa and mama left him~~ ) that he crumpled his picture and threw it away in a trash bin. Clint retrieved the paper from the trash, straightening it out before folding it and tucking it away in his back pocket. FRIDAY had better find the best and loving parents for Jason. Parents that would love him, care for him, keep him safe, and give him all the attention he desperately sought out for that was lacking in this place.

He just wished Stark would stop treating the kids like monsters for the time being.

(But what could he do, though? What right did he have to order Stark?)

_"Colonel Rhodes? Boss wants the boys in the medical wing, the Pediatrician has arrived."_

"Alright then," Bucky watched the man wheel himself over to the boys, a gentle air around him as he approached the kids, unlike the still look he had given Bucky when Steve told him the long overdue truth. "Hey boys, we gotta go."

"Meta mun," Grant mumbled, scribbling away on his exhausted red and yellow crayons.

"That for Tony?"

"Meta mun!"

"Ah, okay," Rhodes nodded. "For the metal man. Can you say Iron Man?"

Grant just tilted his head, face scrunching up adorably. Rhodes just laughed softly, giving the kid a soft ruffle through his blond locks.

"We'll get back to working on your words when we're done, deal?"

The toddler just nodded his head, not understanding but trusting the adult to guide him since this man was very close with his savior. Rhodes then turned to Jason, giving the other boy a small ruffle on the head but Jason didn't react, nor did he acknowledge it. Bucky had seen the older man shake his head disapprovingly when he saw his friend leave Jason behind, but he said nothing since he knew how hard it must have been to be around the child that could have potentially killed Howard and Maria Stark had things went accordingly to their universe's history.

"Hey buddy, c'mon, doctor's waiting for us." Rhodey lightly tugged the kid's shirt. "C'mon. Up we go."

Jason slowly stood up, face still ducked to the floor as he followed Rhodes towards the elevator.

Getting their vaccinations was probably going to be a frightening experience for them, but necessary to avoid contacting illnesses that could have been easily avoided. Bucky was actually shocked that there was actually a bunch of idiotic parents who chose not to have their kids vaccinated because of the ridiculous belief that they caused autism. Health like this saved lives, and it would have saved Steve from having half his life spent away coughing, wheezing, and suffering from awful fits of fevers that Bucky was afraid would claim his best pal's life. And now the people of this generation were throwing away chances of keeping their children safe and healthy because an idiot who has his license revoked purposefully released this false fact that was now going to leave kids harmed.

Yeah, scary needles were daunting but it would keep Grant and Jason healthy and a step further away from catching something.

The elevator doors closed and the hum of the machine signaled that they were heading down to the medical wing when Lang and Richards appeared from the staircase, both of them looking a bit disgruntled (though Lang looked mostly bug-eyed by whatever was bothering him).

"What's wrong?" the Maximoff woman asked.

"Saw something freaky as hell," Lang shuddered as he sat down on the couch. "Scary ass white suit of armor, Jesus..."

That got everyone's attention, most especially the Black Widow.

"Iron Man Mark 50."

"Oh, so you've seen it." Lang huffed. "Of course you've seen it. You've seen everything."

The red-haired woman ignored Lang's comments and stared at Richards with a perplexed look. Her face had mostly healed from the bruise Stark gave her, but there was still hints of color across the bridge of her nose and the corner of her lips.

"What was it doing in the hallway?"

"That's what I want to know," Lang butted in, but again, he was ignored.

"I don't know. Scott said he saw it first in the medical wing yesterday." Richards shrugged. "I mean, you seem to know Stark better than I do—sort of—would he really leave his armor like that? Especially after...?"

Everyone understood what he was trying to reference without being all rude about it, but it still stung when they were all reminded of the part they played in Steve's side. Bucky saw Barton giving the red-haired Widow a black look, and the way she shifted on her feet told him enough that she could feel Barton's eyes.

The Widow stared at Lang's head, somehow appearing not so sure if she heard Richards right.

"You saw two white suits of armor?" she slowly shook her head, arms crossing over her chest. "He only made one."

"How do you know? I saw one in the medical wing, and then the other in the hallway. God, is Stark fucking with us? FRIDAY, are _you_ fucking with us?!" Lang shouted at the ceiling.

 _"I can't track down the location of the armor you've described."_ FRIDAY responded, a hint of confusion in her accented tone.  _"Can you confirm this, Dr. Richards?"_

"She's in on it, I know she is!" Lang pointed at the ceiling accusingly before Richards had a chance to answer the AI.

"She can't track it because JARVIS was originally the one overseeing the construction of the armor with Tony. Also, the armor is made up of a foreign compound that it's practically invisible to FRIDAY's scans." the Widow explained, cutting off Lang's paranoia shtick. 

"Foreign compound? You saying he created a new alloy? One that could camouflage itself from Mr. Stark's AI?" Richards perked up, looking a little giddy kid that was going on an exciting school trip. "Wow, just, wow! He created a new element and now an alloy, that's just... holy shit!"

(Remember how Steve rolled his eyes on the way to pick up a new science fiction novel from the book store? Remember how exciting that was, Bucky?)

"He didn't actually create it," the Widow corrected Richards. "I'm sure you heard of the incident that occurred in Missouri? It was two years ago?"

Okay, yeah, Bucky sort of heard of something weird like that happening while on the run. A small town almost got wiped out by this giant, blue, lava-like thing that ceased its expansion as quickly as it had began, taking a few hundreds lives with it. Stark Industries had been on the scene which created a stir by the United States that it was somehow the fault of some experiment gone wrong developed by Stark. The PR did their best to dissuade the finger-pointing, but no one listened. At the time, he thought it weird but brushed it off, thinking that it was not his problem to worry about because he had bigger things to be concerned of ( ~~who is ' _Bucky_~~ ~~'~~?).

"I thought Stark Industries had the entire thing destroyed." Sam said, eyes on the Widow.

"He took a sample, but the rest he made sure was destroyed. The substance acted as a sort of virus that ate away the host, and it seemed to be... alive? Like it's a virus that can think by a network of commands coming from somewhere." she sighed, giving a light shrug from one shoulder. "Tony once told me this thing was not only eating its way on the surface, but it was also making it's way deep into the earth, probably to also eat the earth's core."

Yikes.

"Why the hell did no one say this?!" Lang gawked, a horrified expression set upon his face.

"To prevent mass hysteria," Sam answered. "But with all that's happening, I guess it don't really matter. Be it from super secret evil organizations hiding under our noses, evil aliens wanting to take a crack at us, or a bunch of assholes who were _keeping secrets_ to themselves, they're always gonna be people screaming their heads off."

Judging by the look on Richards' face, the guy was left way out of the loop about the lies and hurt Stark had experienced under the hands of the rogue Avengers, Steve, and Bucky. 

"So, this armor," Lang coughed, wanting to change the subject back to the creepy armor he came across.

"He experimented with it. There was a lot of trials and safety measures put up to prevent another incident, but so far there was nothing. No response. The traces of life inside it. Dead."

"So he put it into storage?"

"No. He went to California to see Pepper, returned, and suddenly there was Tony running around, yelling at JARVIS to take notes and record everything that was happening. I didn't get to read the rest of the report. Steve called me for some back-up when he caught a trail." there was a shift of eyes directed towards Bucky. "By the time I got back, Tony was halfway done with the suit and any records were sealed away deep in the Stark Industries data with no access. But from what I heard, it sounded like he wasn't too successful with his side project. I never heard from it again—until now."

"Okay, so that creepy thing is actually a creepy suit made out of alien juice. That's awesome." Lang's sarcasm was not lost to anyone. "Excuse me while I go piss myself in a corner."

* * *

Steve watched the proceedings from the other side of the glass, eyes tracking every movement as the old dark-skinned woman used her stethoscope to hear the tiny heartbeat encased in the toddler's body, and Steve could hear it from here to all across the room. It was like a frantic little buzz, gentle and fragile as the boy was.

Dr. Symmes was a pediatrician of twenty-seven years under her belt. She took great care to distract Grant when she pulled out her needles, writing down a medical profile on her little patient who pulled a brave face, and Steve felt his heart swell in pride, seeing the boy try not to shed a tear. A crooked smile broke out when the good doctor pulled out a box of the Avengers printed band-aids that made Grant sit up straight and make grabby hands.

Iron Man and War Machine were the ones Grant picked out, and the doctor carefully placed them on his arms and legs before helping Grant pull up his shorts over his diapers.

Jason was a little difficult.

Rhodey had to stay close the entire time, gently coaxing the dark-haired boy with a soothing voice, holding him in his lap when she pulled out the needles. It crushed Steve, seeing the tears fall, hearing the sobbing, and not being able to do a thing because his touch and presence was still unwelcome to all three parties inside the medical wing. Looking away from the window, his eyes fell on Tony. The older man was sitting on one of the waiting chairs, head ducked, and fingers moving rapidly as he texted on his phone, not at all blinking at the small child crying inside.

How heartless.

(Once you break a man's heart, you find nothing more to break in him.)

Steve inhaled slowly then slowly made his approach. A seat positioned on the opposite side of where Tony sat, Steve took a seat and stared at the designer shoes Tony wore. Looking up, his eyes traced over Tony's bruised face, dark circles under his eyes, and Steve knew that this man had yet to catch a wink of sleep since his awakening from a coma.

"Have you slept at all?" Steve asked anyway.

"Sure, sleep sounds pretty safe and comfy in a tower full of assassins, mind-fucking witches, and other guys who can sneak in my room to slit my throat."

"Tony,"

"Fuck off, Rogers. Just stop pretending. I know who you truly are now, no need to continue with this charade you created for the entire world."

"I wasn't..." Steve trailed off, mind taking him back in time where he walked away, where he took his best friend and dropped the shield, leaving Tony behind in the cold. "I wasn't thinking, I was just—"

"Of course you weren't thinking, Rogers!" Tony snapped, his eyes finally looking up from his phone and his sharp attention on Steve. "You never think! You only just do what you like because never mind the 117+ countries telling you to stop it! Never mind what your own country is warning you about! Never fucking mind what your team says, right?!"

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tony.

"And if you try to use that bullshit tree thing on me, I will destroy you, Go ahead Rogers, I fucking  _dare you_ to tell me to move, and I'll meet you with a goddamn _chainsaw_!"

 _"Boss,"_ came FRIDAY's announcement, thankfully interrupting Tony.  _"There's a call from American Adoption Agency. They would like to know if there's anyway they can meet the children and take discussion about counseling—"_

"Did you emphasize how private this needs to be. Did you warn them about the possibility of getting their asses sued should this leak out to the public?"

_"Yes boss, the gag order had been recognized and accepted."_

"Alright then, I need you to send a driver to meet them at a cafe outside the corner of..." 

Steve listened Tony talk about the boys like they were unwanted relics being passed down, and once again Steve wanted to punch him for it.

Rhodey wheeled out of the medical wing, shaking hands with Dr. Symmes as she was prepared to leave. The woman gave a nod to Tony, and gave Steve a critical look that made him look away from her, before she excused herself and exited to the nearest elevator to escort herself out of the building. Jason's muffled crying against Rhodey's chest was sad, and Grant was covered in band-aids. The tiny blond approached Tony, almost stumbling in his clumsy steps, but he reached the older man.

"Meta mun!" Grant greeted Tony with a cutesy chirp that would turn anyone into goo.

Anyone except for Tony, that is.

"I take it the good doctor has done her work?" Tony asked Rhodey, ignoring the boy as always.

"Yeah," Rhodey nodded, hand gently patting Jason's trembling back. "She'll be uploading their medical files in the data banks when she gets to the hospital. They'll have to go to several physical check ups in a later date."

"Don't worry, FRIDAY got a call from an adoption agency. They'll be coming here next Tuesday to get a look at the kids, and by the time their check ups come, their new guardians will be doing all the work."

"That's... good, Tones." Rhodey nodded, hand now stroking Jason's back as he calmed down his sobbing.

"Are we sure it's safe, though?" Steve asked, his voice quiet but the two men were still able to catch it. 

"I told you, Rogers," Tony sneered at him. "You are in no position to be asking for adoption papers. You are a damn fugitive of the international kind. You think you'll be able to raise these boys while on the run?"

"I'm not running, Tony." Steve gritted his teeth, glaring at him.

"Could have fooled me." the older man snorted, and Steve had to inhale through his nostrils and remember to hold his temper and bite his tongue because he will not be baited. He will not get into another argument with Tony, no matter how much the guy pushed his buttons.

"I'm just saying: you recognized me even as a child. What makes you think you're the only one who can?" Steve said as calmly as he could without letting his voice rise that it would scare the children.

"Because Howard couldn't help himself in creating so much albums full of memorabilia that he liked to show them off to me." Tony snapped.

"Please, Tony, all I'm asking is to make sure, for their safety." Steve gestured to the two kids. "I just want to make sure."

"You can make sure by staying the hell away from them so people won't connect the dots between you and these brats." Tony glowered before standing up and walking around the kids.

Steve looked to Rhodey for help, and the former pilot, while still angry about the lies, gave only a slight nod as a promise to talk to Tony about Steve's concern. Because it was something of a real concern. If Tony could recognize who Steve and Bucky were as toddlers, there was also the chance that someone who had seen the Baxter Building fire could also possibly identify the children as Captain America and the Winter Soldier. It seemed all Steve could do was talk to Tony through other people or FRIDAY because the engineer really was done with listening to whatever thing or concern Steve wanted to address.

After Rhodey took the kids to the next floor, he made sure Steve would respect the children's wishes in keeping his distance while FRIDAY guided them with her light strips along the wall to lure the kids in the living area where Richards and the others would be waiting. Steve caught the scent of something cooking, and it smelled like spaghetti and meatballs. Rhodey finally headed off to talk some more with Tony, and Steve hoped that Tony would take his concerns seriously.

When he arrived in the living area, he was greeted with a peculiar sight.

There was the kid from the airport sitting across from Bucky and Sam, his red and blue tight form swinging his legs while his dark eyes narrowed on his best friend.

"Queens," Steve greeted, walking to the kitchen where Richards took a break from whatever he was doing to that delicious-smelling pot and pulling out two sippy cups from the fridge to give to Grant and Jason.

"Brooklyn," the kid gave an awkward wave, but his attention was mostly on the two boys standing close to Vision's legs. "Hey there."

Jason hid himself while Grant cocked his head to the side like Tony had done hours before. Then he looked up at Vision.

"Don't be afraid," Vision told him. "He's friends with the Metal Man."

"Oh yeah," the teen agreed enthusiastically. "I know Iron Man, we're cool!"

"Meta Mun?" 

"Yep, Spider-Man and Metal Man friends." the kid slid from his seat and crouched low to ground. "Who are you? Are you friends with the Metal Man, too? I didn't know he had little cute friends like you, think we can be friends?"

Sam was grinning like a fool, Bucky was trying hard to hide his smile, Clint was turned away but Steve could see from the corner that there was pull on his cheeks that said he was smiling, too. Richards and Scott watched the whole thing with amused faces, and Wanda had this sad look as she stared at Jason.

(She could feel things from people's thoughts; she can feel how deeply the boy was hurting, and she had a look that said that if she could, she would not want to let this boy down like she had let someone important to her down.)

Grant took a step forward and the Queens kid took Grant's offered hand in a funny little handshake. Steve wanted to take a picture of this moment. But it made jealousy burn within him, seeing how almost easy it was for Grant to reach out to others while he still didn't come close to Steve and his team. Jason wasn't a social butterfly but already he was giving the teen curious looks like he was slowly being tempted to join Grant in greeting the stranger in red and blue.

"What brings you here, kid?" Steve asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

"Spider- _Man_. And I'm here on official business." the teen said casually, standing back up to his full height while Grant circled him like an adorable piranha.

"What business?" Sam quirked a brow.

"Avenger business."

"Avenger business which you're not officially involved with?" Natasha quirked her head, a shy of a smile on her lips.

"I'm an Avenger!" the teen said defensively, the lens of his eyes narrowing.

"You are under eighteen, and I believe Mr. Stark is acting as your mentor until you are old enough to sign the Accords in your own free will instead of under the influence." Vision corrected the teen.

"Wait, what?" Scott perked from his place next to Richards. "Kids are exempted? I mean, well, yeah, I get that, but this guy kind of packs a punch and kicked two of our guys asses."

That earned a glare from said two guys.

"Children are a delicate subject in the Accords." Vision replied, eyeing the child still hiding behind his leg. "They need to be monitored carefully, they're very impressionable by whatever situation they are in. And with the increase of enhanced that are not only terrorists but youths as well, there are conflicting discussions on how to properly deal with them."

People were afraid of unstable power, they either try to control it or do something to make it disappear for good. Wanda was young, but she was at that age where she had to think for herself, and as much as Clint and Steve wanted to shelter her like a child, there was issues that needed to be acknowledged. The girl had been through enough, going from one prison to the next, having to constantly go on the run, it must have been taxing both physically and mentally. And since Vision was no longer allowing another chance, Sam was worried that Wanda would be bottling herself up until it got to be too much that it would shatter.

And it was not going to be pretty.

Wanda only had her brother to rely on, years of them together while being experimented by HYDRA since their teenage years (since childhood), it resulted in Wanda not being able to properly think for herself, and that made Steve feel sick to his stomach for having Clint lure her away like a fish on a tasty bait.

So of course these kids needed to be monitored, had to probably get counseling, because they needed to be able to think for themselves rather than blindly obey to every command like Steve had made the others blindly obey. Order was good and all, but blind loyalty was something that was going to bite you if you weren't careful on who was giving the right or wrong orders.

And that was where the Accords came in.

If done right, people could refuse to divulge their personal information, people could refuse to accept missions they felt were crossing in the lines of political and military agendas, and people could say no to it all and hang up their suits without repercussions while getting safety in anonymity.

(Remember how Tony didn't want his suits to be handed over to the US government? Of course he knew of the risks in trusting people of higher authority; Tony knew, Steve, he knew how scary it was, so he tried to make it better for everyone, even for Steve Rogers!)

"You wanna join us for dinner, kid?" Clint asked, preparing the plates and utensils.

The kid looked like he was going to refuse until Grant tugged his hand, small fingers stretching to reach for the teen's own to grab his attention.

"Yeah, sure. I did come here for... business."

"Sure, kid." Bucky nodded, playing along.

"It's Spider- _MAN_."

He had to prove that he can trust his friends. He had to prove to his friends that he would not use his influence like that. He had to hear the choices rather than make them. Steve Rogers had to sign the Accords, and he couldn't do it if he and the team were locked in prison.


	21. Bye Bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye is painful.
> 
> p.s. I just want to tell readers who are following the story and find the dismissive relationship Tony has with the kids painful to read, please stop reading this fic. Someone was asking me where does it end because this was becoming harmful, and I want to express my sincerest apology that I'm causing such distress for anyone who feel upset about this. Please stop reading this fic, don't force yourself. I beg of you, think about yourself rather than forcing to go on.

Everyone made themselves scarce, being warned by FRIDAY that they ought to stay inside their floor because social service workers were there to interview the boys.

Being the masochistic men they were, Steve and Bucky watched the entire thing through one of the many cameras FRIDAY had inside the conference room, the audio on as they listened to the proceedings with keen ears. Inside the conference were two women, the boys, and Richards keeping Tony company, and each women were talking to the boys and taking notes. Grant did his best to answer and make conversation back with his limited vocabulary while Jason kept a one-sided talk with his social worker. It was easy for the woman to catch on the air of distress on Jason when the boy tried to catch Tony's eye who kept his eyes on the screen of the phone in his hand.

Richards did most of the talking, and he stumbled over his words when Tony would give him warning looks that came too close to certain things the social workers need not have information on because of the need to keep important things secret.

The women finally wrapped things up when they knew they weren't going to get more answers, only getting half-truths from the two men and promising to find specific parents who were better suited for each child's care. Grant would be easy, it was Jason that was going to have a bit of a difficult time. Tony then informs the social workers that he would lend FRIDAY to them to hasten the process, making it easier to weed out the parents most suited for Grant and Jason, screen them, exchange a picture, keep the entire thing quiet and private, and have it done with so the boys were no longer his responsibility. Again, the two women sensed the impatience in Tony, how he kept his distance from the boys.

They promised to do it as quickly as they could, if only to take the kids away from what they deemed as negligence on Tony's part.

Tony wasn't kid material, but that kind of behavior was way off, even for Tony's standards. The man was drained of all sympathetic notions he might have once held for them even after they abandoned him. He gave Natasha a warning to run before she was arrested (something she mentally cringed from the cold response she gave to him for his lack of help), he knew where everyone was and said nothing to give them away, and from what she was told by Richards and Vision—Tony had never been this highly aggressive.

Yes, he had been giving himself and the boys a wide space, had left Vision to take care of them while he and Richards built the machine, had hours of commentary about his woes of unwanted parenthood to the booger-faced children... but he always responded to them, he always stopped when Vision asked him to join him and the children in the living area of Tony's pent house, and he had been slowly getting accustomed to their presence.

But then they all came charging in like a pack of stampeding elephants, stomping on Tony.

And when he came back to them, he set fire to his bridges that had been undergoing slow construction, and he turned a cold shoulder to the boys. There was restraint with the yelling, and keeping the violence out of the children's view, but Tony was suddenly exuberating everything that was the antithesis of who he used to be. He was more isolated, he was more quick to get his point across, he was hyper aggressive, he was more obsessed with working, he barely listened to what anyone had to say, Rhodey, Vision, and Richards slowly falling in with the rest of the crowd, and he was utterly _silent_.

He had every right to be angry, he had every right to be carting them off to jail, but there was a gut instinct that twisted uncomfortably inside her from almost every interaction she watched the genius billionaire plow through. She could see Rhodey understanding but still wanting to say something about Tony's behavior, and from seeing how unsettled this man who knew his best friend for longer than twenty years, her suspicions grew to new heights.

Gone was the chatter he often let out, even had one-sided conversations to himself because he could, gone was the noise of his obnoxious music, gone was the man who liked to create magic in his kingdom of technological wonder.

Natasha didn't know this Tony Stark anymore.

(Yes, she _does_ know this man. She has seen this man again and again since she was a child. This man had a name, and he was called Wrath.)

* * *

"No."

Bucky was no longer surprised by that word; it was becoming an innate reflex for Stark to respond to every request by answering ' _no_ ' every time. He learned days ago to stop because he was practically trying to make peace with a brick wall.

"You can bring an army of Taskforce agents," Steve said.

"Two super soldiers locked up in a tight space who have a history of getting out of situations like that? Yeah, don't think so."

"We're not gonna make a run for it."

"Yeah, just like you said everyone would go down as a team, but _here we are_!"

"I wouldn't leave the others behind."

"You're right, you wouldn't. You send them a message somehow and they'd all attack the moment you provide them a distraction by playing target with the Taskforce."

Every angle Steve tried was met with a concrete wall he couldn't get around or climb over. There was no compromising with the fella, his eyes too busy looking through files on a tablet, flicking his hands in the air where FRIDAY pulled up his desired file in a holographic view for him to warp to his liking. Bucky saw pictures of couples and some who already had families (kids that were probably also adopted). The adoption agency had sent e-mails to Stark, files that each told a story about the people attached to them, all of which Tony ignored and let FRIDAY shuffle them around like a lottery ticket that Stark would reach in and pick which lucky winner would be granted the prize.

Like he said, a stone cold brick wall with no concept of human emotions.

Stark picked a couple, one of them being related to a doctor, so that doctor could possibly pull strings for Grant should his health take a turn for the worse, but that was unlikely (yet just to be on the safe side).

As for Jason, Stark picked a couple that made Bucky do a double take.

It was odd, he found, everything suddenly being out in the open for the entire world to know that the fairies and dykes were there and never going to go away, that they screamed that they were not sick despite what churches and conservatives had to say, that love between two men or two women (or whatever they liked to call themselves these days) was something that was going to happen whether they liked it or not. Sixty years was a long time for social concerns turning into something new that it still overwhelmed Bucky and Steve. And while Steve paused at the choice, he didn't say anything and continued to pester Stark for wanting to at least watch the kids go when the time came.

Bucky couldn't help but stare at the picture.

Two men, wedding rings on their fingers, both of them looking young like they were recently married, but the way they stood close to each other made Bucky look away like he was looking at something private, saved only for behind closed doors. He had nothing against people who prefer the same team, had caught glimpses of it in the dark alleys... in the lonely trenches where all the men missed their girls and wanted some company for the night, but he always looked away and pretended it never happened.

(And then he remembered some. Times where his targets had significant others they kept quiet about from the prying eyes of the public. Times where he took pictures and his handlers used them as blackmail material over the heads of his marks. Times where he stood on the roof and aimed his scope where two men were in the middle of a tryst, taking them both out with a quick shot to their heads. Times when he stealthily invaded a dark apartment, two women sleeping together on the bed, blissfully unaware of the knife striking down.)

And he saw that awful smile on Stark's face, and Bucky knew the older man picked the couple on purpose to make Bucky squirm in his seat.

"You know what?" Stark turned to Steve, that smile still on his face that it made Steve lean a little backwards, suddenly wary. "I guess I can let you guys come along. Say your goodbyes from the distance and watch the kids go."

And Stark's eyes remained locked on Bucky's, that ugly grin spreading itself wide and Bucky just gripped the arm rest of the chair he was sitting on that it would probably break should he clutch it too hard.

The older man picked up the two couples and sent the reply via FRIDAY.

Come Sunday, the adoption agency got confirmation and the boys would be meeting their new parents in Seattle and Dallas. Stark and Richards were going to see the tykes off as the agents would be taking them on separate planes at the airport. It would have been faster to send them in Stark's private jet, but this had to come across as something public and nothing connected to Stark.

Which was why Bucky and Steve were left watching the whole thing with a bunch of armed men, keeping an eye through a tablet as FRIDAY hacked into the airport's security cameras. With a scope offered up to them (reluctantly), Bucky peeked through the window of the disguised van they were holed up in and spotted Stark walking a few spaces behind Richards as the man led the children where the social workers were waiting. Bucky lost them in the crowd and the scopes weren't technologically advanced enough to see through walls, but he glanced over to the tablet in Steve's hands to see them, so they had to wait while the van was permitted to enter through security outposts, venturing close enough to the terminal where the boys designated planes would be.

He finally spotted Richards when the women waiting at the terminal grabbed the duffel bags the boys were given with all the clothes FRIDAY ordered from online stores and had them discretely delivered to the Tower, keeping the boys clothed, along with their toiletries and coloring books.

Richards allowed one of the workers to take Grant from his arms as the little punk was docile enough, but the doctor had his work cut out for him when he had to coax Jason to join the other social worker. All the while this was happening, Stark remained unseen, and looking back to the tablet, the billionaire was keeping his distance and was seated somewhere in what looked to be a coffee shop. Stark, even with his expensive shades on, looked utterly blank as the children began to cry.

* * *

They kept looking back at him, and it made him curse with how they continued to make it so obvious but thankfully people just saw them as a bunch of tiny fans of Iron Man.

Several people took not-so-discreet selfies with him in the background, and he made damn sure to keep his distance so that Richards and the kids wouldn't be in the shots. It also helped that FRIDAY could hack into every phone in the vicinity and blur them, much to his satisfaction. The terminal was packed, so it made it easier for him to blend in while following the kids, and he was glad no one approached him for an autograph, some of them getting away with a picture to show off to friends and family.

Richards went through a bunch of security check points, looking ruffled by the entire process while Stark took the easy way by showing his identity and badge, the security letting him pass like one of those special passes that let you cut across the line.

They finally reached a bridge where luggage carts were being transported from below towards the runways where the giant planes were. The gate was close by, so Tony stopped by a coffee shop, picked up a magazine and watched the entire thing unfold before his eyes. And somewhere in the distance, he noticed a familiar van that had been following his car (which had been following the taxi Richards and the brats were riding in) before it disappeared into the security check point. The perfect view for Rogers and Barnes to watch their counterparts leave and never be seen again, and Tony will make sure those two will _never_ see the brats again.

The dark-haired boy was about to make a scene, waterworks already falling as he shied away from his social worker. The kid kept _looking_ at him, and he started sobbing out loud and making a commotion that it was catching a lot of attention from passing bystanders. Tony just nodded for the woman to take charge, and with effort, she picked up the boy who was now screaming, causing his companion to become distress and cry out as well. Richards looked entirely helpless, but the man was smart enough not to look backwards where Tony sat because that would implicate something suspicious was happening.

"Medaamaaa~!" Jason sobbed, fingers reaching out.

Tony sat his magazine down and turned around, ignoring the grating screams as he began to make the trip return through the entire airport and leave Richards to go through the security check points while he went ahead to the Tower. With the kids out of the way, he could safely resume with his plan to take out Ross from the old bastard's fancy spot in the Secretary's seat while also dishing out the deserved punishment awaiting for Rogers, Barnes, Romanoff, T'Challa, and the other gullible idiots who followed along with it.

But like every turn he had experienced that set off a chain of events, Tony Stark once again was thrust into another situation when something suddenly whizzed past his neck, leaving a trail of scorched skin that gave him seconds to register the pain.

_'This is NOT happening.'_ Tony's eyes widened as he clutched the side of his neck.

A cry from behind him had Tony whirling around to find the social worker down on the ground, a hole in her shoulder as she cried out in pained panic while clutching Grant closer to her chest to protect him from the bullet that barely missed her vital parts and Tony's neck. Immediately, mass panic broke out after the first shot and scream. Crowds began dispersing like a school of spooked fish, trying to get away from the danger.

And when Tony looked back to where the direction of the first bullet had come from, there stood a man dressed like a security officer of the airport staff, holding a lethal-looking automatic. Vaguely wondering just how the hell could anyone not spot a man walking around with a gun mostly reserved for bigger threats rather than the typical stun guns, Tony quickly spotted Richards and the two social workers with the crying kids.

"GET DOWN!" Tony shouted, ducking under a table as more bullets came flying where he and Richards once stood, the other scientist ducking under a table across the other end of the bridge from where Tony was. Quickly, he pulled out his phone and shouted, "FRIDAY, send for my closest suit!"

_"Had it coming since the first shot, boss! ETA in five minutes!"_

"Maximize power to the thrusters to increase the speed! I don't care about how much power will be left, just do it!"

_"Affirmative! Boss, you should kno—"_

"Stark!" Richards warned him, eyes locked on something standing over the engineer, and Tony threw himself away when the fake security guard threw the table he had ducked under to the side in order to get a clear shot of him.

Tony immediately kicked his leg out, foot landing on the man's knee that he heard a crack, and he knew there was a crack because the man looming over him let out a pained cry. But then a body crashed into him, and he was struggling on the floor to throw the man off him, and it didn't help that he was now trying to fight a knife off the goon who whipped it out of nowhere and tried to stab his face. Before the blade came any closer to his eye, there was a crash and the heavy body crushing him was removed. Standing over him now was Richards with two severed legs of a chair, the rest of splintered pieces destroyed when he smashed it into the vulnerable back of the attacker.

Richards appeared close to hyperventilating with how quickly he was inhaling the air like a drowning man breaking the water's surface.

Spotting another goon rounding the corner, Tony yanked Richards with him and both men ran inside a coffee shop before vaulting themselves over the counter top, ducking behind the bar in time as the bullets came flying, shattering glasses, coffee bags, espresso machines, and people all around them were screaming. Tony winced when one barista girl screamed in his ear that he had an urge to slap her just to get her to stop, but then when a blender was knocked off the counter, Richards grabbed it and ripped the pitcher off it. Thankfully it was a wireless blender, so when Richards flicked the thing on, he whipped his arm back and threw it over the counter.

There was a horrific scream and the bullets stopped that Tony didn't miss the chance to jump over and tackle the shooter. The blender caught the man's arm, and he could see the nasty gash bleeding profusely, but he didn't hesitate to punch the open wound to make the man let go of the grip he had on the gun. And with that, he grabbed the nearest object, which was a napkin bin, and slammed it right against the man's face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious.

Two goons down and how many more to go?

"What the hell?" Tony cursed, looking back to where the kids were.

Gone. The two women were on the ground, bleeding, and from the blood surrounding their heads, they were beyond saving. It must have happened when he and Richards were hiding behind the coffee, a third guy taking the chance to take the two boys from their wards and making a run back into the terminal.

"FRIDAY!" 

There was no answer.

"She's not answering me either," Richards checked his own phone. "Whoever they are, they severed the connection between us and her. We're on our own."

"Fucking Christ on a toast!" he cursed again.

With that, he bolted towards the terminal where he heard more gunfire. He was not going to be outwitted by a bunch of these asshats who were looking to take advantage of stealing the mini yet-to-be super soldiers. With Rogers and Barnes' successful transition to become the ultimate weapons wrapped in tight leather, the brats would make the perfect test subjects that would serve whoever was kidnapping them for their own causes. He heard someone running behind him, and he was taken aback how readily Richards was running towards the danger with him.

"Go and hide, Richards! This isn't your issue!" Tony yelled over his shoulder.

"I'm not gonna let you do it alone!" Richards snapped back, keeping up with him.

"This isn't the time to play hero!"

"You don't have FRIDAY to cover your back, so I'll do the job for her until she finds a way to reach you!"

"Son of a bitch," Tony cursed again, huffing under his breath as he followed ran towards the direction people were running from.

Just as the two of them reached a checkpoint, five men in similar disguises as security officers who were holding guns were in the middle of shooting the real security officers, and two of them were holding each toddlers close, the children crying out in fear as they were roughly pressed into their kidnappers' sides. Tony and Richards were immediately spotted by one, and with a order that sounded Greek to Tony's ears, all five guns whipped towards their direction.

"SHIT!" Richards yelped before he quickly latched onto Tony's arm and forcefully yanked him down, the two of them sliding across the polished floor that helped them slide under a powered roller conveyor that was blocking their way towards the kidnappers which also provided some cover from the hale of bullets.

Still sliding, they finally skidded to a halt where they found a few more people ducking for cover. Spotting a nearby scraggly-looking security guy who was shaking under his desk with the other civilians, Tony crawled towards him.

"Gimme your taser, kid!"

The taser gun was easily removed and pressed against his palm, and Tony did a quick check to unlock it when the doctor let out a strangled yelp that caused the engineer to snap his head up, just in time to see a grenade flying towards them.

Suddenly Richards was on his feet, a backpack snatched from the floor, where he used it like a baseball bat and smacked the grenade away. Up in mid-air it exploded over the heads in the direction of where it had been thrown, and Tony took the chance to shoot to his feet and open fire on the man holding one of the kids hostage. The blond, once he hit the floor, was at least aware enough to know when to run. However, the downside was that Tony only had used his one ammunition and it wasn't enough for the little guy to escape as the man holding the other toddler was quick to capture him, and both men sucked their breaths in when they knew they would be meeting another barrage of fire.

But then suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, Rogers and Barnes crash through the windows from the second floor of the terminal, glass falling and disorienting the armed kidnappers. Both super soldiers immediately took out the men they landed on, and the one guy holding the tykes started to make a run for it, abandoning the rest of his crew to deliver the prized packages.

"Oh fuck no...!" Tony growled as he jumped over another rolling conveyor, glaring at the sight ahead of him as he ran with Richards on his heels. "Oh fuck no, are you _kidding me_?!"

Tony ran past the brawling duo who made quick work on the shooters then caught up to Tony and Richards. When Rogers was close enough, Tony did not hesitate to lay it on him, punching Rogers chest even if he knew it wouldn't affect him but Tony didn't care because what the fuck?!

" _WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU_?!?" Tony demanded, outraged and frothing at the mouth as he ran while glaring furiously at the tall blond then to his sidekick. "How the hell did you morons escape?!"

"Are you serious?!" Rogers snapped. "We just saw you two get shot at and the boys get kidnapped!"

"What the hell made you think we were gonna stand for that?!" Barnes growled, glaring at Tony.

"YOU FUCKS! YOU GODDAMN STUPID FUCKS!!" Tony shouted some more, punching Rogers again and again. "ROSS WILL GET HIS SAUSAGE-FINGERED HANDS ON YOU ASSHOLES!!"

Both men looked startled that Tony wanted to rip his own hair out in frustration because these ignorant little shits...!

"You just practically served yourselves on a silver platter to General Thunderpants whose going to have so much fun dissecting you idiots for your serum! Thanks a bunch, Rogers, it's been a fucking blast! At least we know how the world ends: super massive nuclear war by psychotic super soldiers with boners for wanting to make said war!"

"Look!" Richards shook Tony's shoulder, cutting off whatever more he wanted to scream in Rogers and Barnes' face. "Let's take the kids back first and then we can deal with Secretary Ross! Are the Taskforce at least blocking the exits?"

"As best they can." Barnes replied. "There's only a handful of them though, and the comms are down so we can't give them an update of where to position themselves. The only upside is that people are gonna notice that something's wrong once they realize they're cut off from us, if they hadn't been alerted by FRIDAY already."

"Where the hell is my suit?!" Tony hissed, looking through the windows they were running by for any signs of a red and gold flying suit of armor. "It should have been here two minutes ago!"

"The entire place is shut down, FRIDAY can't see you with the cameras practically dead." Richards said, looking for the armor as well.

"Who are we dealing with? They're not your average kidnapper," Rogers said, all of them turning a corner and following the cries of the toddler, the only time Tony is actually thankful for.

"HYDRA?" Richards guessed.

"Better hope not." Barnes hissed, glaring ahead.

"Of course, if they can't have their old toy then they'll want the newer one to have loads of fun with." Tony snarled, glaring at Barnes over his shoulder.

"That won't happen!" Rogers snapped, grabbing Tony by the shoulder. "I won't let that happen, I promise Tony."

"Give your bullshit promises to someone who'll actually buy it, Rogers!" Tony yanked his shoulder away, concentrating on his running rather than the lying bastard running beside him.

With the cries getting much closer, Tony sped up and ran through an opening where the toddlers' lingering echo came from, and just as he ran through, but he was slammed from behind when shots started firing over his head. He grunted at the heavy weight, and as he turned his face, he was blinded by the curtain of dark hair. Barnes.

"Get off!" Tony shouted, elbowing Barnes' side so the man would get the hint.

The super soldier growled next to his ear and did as he was told, and Tony crawled for cover, looking up to the ceiling for a mirror where he spotted more armed men and—he stopped in mid-crawl, causing Barnes to stop as well.

"Stark?"

There was a machine, heavy and complex-looking that it made Tony ponder warily of what exactly the thing was for. It was big but one large man from the group of over forty armed shooters, most of them fending Rogers off from the flying luggages the super soldier was using since Tony had taken back his father's shield, but the big man lifted it with some effort.

That's when the lights, electricity, and everything electronical came back online, and Tony felt his phone vibrate his blazer's inner pocket, the incessant beeping alerting him of FRIDAY. Instead of relief, there was only more unease since the men attacking them with their guns didn't fall back in panic, instead they looked prepared, and it all had to do with that thing the big man was holding up.

Before he could act, do anything, say something to the others, the sound of his approaching suit came to his ears.

Just as his armor came crashing in, the machine gave out a pulse that rattled Tony's brains for a moment, and he watched as his suit flung over his head and towards the machine, getting impaled by the machine like a magnet connecting to the surface of refrigerator.

"What the hell is that?!" he heard Rogers say from somewhere, but he was too busying eyeing the machine with shock.

These men were not just kidnapping the children; they had been waiting for Tony.

"Tony!" a luggage flew over his head, hitting a goon square in the face and knocking him over when he had come from behind to shoot Tony's head while he was distracted.

Barnes quickly leapt to catch the gun off the floor where the attacker dropped it, and he quickly shot him in the head before turning his gun towards the rest of the group, providing Rogers cover. Catching something from the corner of his vision, Tony spotted a fire extinguisher sitting placidly against the wall behind a glass container. Quickly, he scrambled and bashed a fist against the glass, uncaring of the cuts he received as he yanked the object out. Barnes caught sight of what he was doing, so when Tony threw it towards the crowd of men who were distracted by Richards and Rogers throwing shit at them, they didn't expect an explosion of white when Barnes fired at the flying red fire extinguisher.

Barnes, Rogers, and Tony did not waste the chance to subdue the forty something men.

Leaping into the mist, Tony grabbed the nearest guy and forced him downward to meat his knee, pushing him off to move on to the next man. He barely missed getting clobbered on the head by a swinging gun used like a bat, Barnes breaking the automatic on someone's back then grabbing another guy in a chokehold with his single harm, giving it a sharp twist to dislocate the neck from the spine, instantly killing them. Steve was kicking and flipping and punching people left and right.

Tony finally spotted one guy who looked to be holding one of the toddlers, their little feet kicking wildly like they, too, were fighting with the rest of the adults. Tony was instantly on the man, snapping a palm up the guy's nose to cause the man's head to jerk back in pain following a series of attacks against the grunt's open torso with quick punches to the most vulnerable and effective spots. The kidnapper's hold on the boy dropped, and before the little guy collided with the hard floor, Tony caught him but he slipped from the rush to catch the toddler.

The mist died down, and Tony looked down to see the teary green-blue eyes little Steve Rogers looking up at him, tiny hands folded like fists over his ruffled suit that was dusted with white.

(Never will he forget those eyes that loomed over him, his father's shield raised above his head as if a guillotine prepared to behead a nonbeliever.)

The click of a loaded weapon made Tony's eyes snap up, and there was a barrel aimed at his face, yet his arms quickly wrapped over the tiny body lying over him, waiting to see the flash and hear the crack in the air before the black took over.

But Richards, damn idiot who dreamed too big and dicked around with things that were unstable, gave a cry and he charged forward to do _something_.

The gun aimed at Tony snapped up and he felt his breath sharply cut off between his mouth and lungs, and he watched helpless as the gun went off at Richards who was still coming to rescue Tony and the boy in his arms.

(Rhodey was falling, falling, falling, falling—)

_**ting!** _

No blood flew or flesh ripped, instead there was armor slamming against Richards' torso, the hole that his armor had impaled itself against thankfully located near the kidney area instead of the chest. Richards was looking down at himself in amazement that a part of Tony's suit was protecting him. Then his head snapped backwards when the helmet flew to his face, clamping it shut, along with the gauntlets. Looking at the machine that had trapped his armor earlier, it looked dead, and he felt a flush of pride that his baby girl had hacked her way into the thing and forced a release hatch that allowed her the opening to protect Richards.

_"DOCTOR! OPEN FIRE!"_ FRIDAY ordered, voice frantic.

And like Richards had probably seen on television, the little geek from the lab became a force to be reckoned with when he raised his arms and shot the repulsors from his glowing hands. The tables were turning, and the men were falling fast like flies.

"GRENADE!"

Another guy came charging at him, a grenade pulled out and unlatched, about to pounce on Tony and take him out in a suicidal bombing that would do the Ten Rings proud, when something white white whizzed over Tony's head, latching onto the grenade then yanking it out of the befuddled man's grip while he was still in mid-air. Tony followed the movement where the grenade was thrown outside through the glass, shattering it until the grenade exploded outside. The grunt landed in a heap, startled as Tony was of the entire thing.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" a kid in red and blue landed harshly on the fallen man's back which knocked him out instantly, giving a small wave to him and the toddler. "We need to stop with the airport scenery. It's kind of redundant, don't you think?"

Something big and black went by them in surprising speed that it blew gusts of small air in Tony's direction, and the startled engineer watched the Black Panther vault over a crowd that was surrounding Barnes, kicking his spry legs out to create a big enough space before sticking to the one-armed wonder's back.

"Sit tight, Mr. Stark!" Peter saluted before joining the fray, shooting webs at random to subdue most of the men, unlike Barnes who was killing them.

Tony, however, was still a sitting duck.

_**bang!** _

His hand flew to his temple, feeling the bullet graze the skin that it left a burning singe behind, and there was a warm wetness that he knew was his blood flowing down the side of his face. So much of it that it made the toddler in his arms cry in fear, the little one ducking down his head in utter fright, and Tony felt a flash of fear, eyes already imaging a picture of what ugly picture he portrayed to the boy.

_**bang!** _

Another one, and it was not a graze. Tony gasped as his hand flew to the side, and he immediately pushed the boy off him to prevent stray bullets from hitting soft skin and bones. With all of them so preoccupied with their groups of thugs, one loner was coming up to Tony with a handgun, having fire two shots and missing his vital areas. The bullet in his gut was not exactly life-threatening, but it hurt like a bitch, and he would bleed out if he didn't get medical help within an hour.

_"Boss!"_

"STARK!" came various cries.

The toddler was crawling over him again, and Tony knew that this stubborn idiocy was not just for Rogers, but it was apparently a trait that was going to stick by him no matter what age. He pushed the kid off him, but the boy scrambled back, screeching his lungs out that if he continued that he would give himself an asthma attack.

Nobody would reach him this time. The attackers purposely positioned themselves to hold back the barrage of supers, and the man was now standing over him and aiming the gun right between his eyes.

"AIM gives their regards, Mr. Stark."

_**BANG!** _

And Tony saw the light.


	22. Stranger Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to ask: who are you?  
> But I'm afraid of what I'll hear  
> And so I am silent

It was like staring straight into the sun without harming the retinas or your eyes. It filled his vision as if he was standing inside a bright room with every light bulb in the room flicked to the highest setting that he couldn't see his own hand even if it was right in his face.

Slowly, shyly, the light dimmed down. And with the brightness fading, he noticed how cool he felt against his forehead, like an ice pack taking away the burning sensation of where the bullet had grazed him. His hands, dirty with his blood, felt dry, clean, no longer stained by the red that came from him. The pain felt removed, numbed even, no longer bleeding out on the floor with only less than an hour for help, instead it felt plugged and the surrounding sensitive nerves were shut off to no longer give painful bouts of pain like he had felt earlier.

Finally, like something that had been lodged in his throat being removed, Tony breathed.

A pulse. One hundred and twenty beats per second, twice the speed of numerous beating hearts, all of them frantic with fear and panic. So many warm bodies, near him, in front of him, all  _around_ him, and he felt them like a sonar picking up signal in its radar. He could even feel them without seeing him, little blips and flares so _insignificant_. Little insects that buzzed around him that he just wanted to swat them  _dead_.

He knew who he needed to go after, didn't need to be told on who to go first and where to aim to accomplish the task.

The whine of a repulsor was like a welcoming embrace to his ears.

He fired.

One heart flat lined; one bug swatted.

He fired more and more and then some more, the armed men dropping quickly in their number, some of them even going so far to flee, but they didn't get far with one shot scorching their open backs. He would not give them the chance to regroup: he was going to end it right then and there.

He wouldn't have noticed he was being shot at from behind had it not been for an icon popping up in front of him, informing him like an afterthought that he should probably deal with the gunman shooting at his lower back.

 _'So smooth,'_ he thought, impressed.

The frantic shooting on his back was probably where the gunman thought the suit was the weakest, the dark fabric of the suit thin yet it was not at all bothered by the popping of flying lead. Previous suits of his made noise, metal on metal impact, dents and scratch marks against the brilliant red and hold he painted that he sometimes felt frustrated in hammering the dents back into place and repainting the entire thing that it was becoming a common chore for him.

Yet in this, he felt nothing. No disturbance, no bruising effects, no noise. It was like a second skin to him, molding itself to his body without needing to be measured into perfect size for someone like him; it slipped on him like a glove. This soft, smooth, and cool thing, unlike his clunky, pinching, and heavy armor.

The bug was still buzzing.

Not turning around, not even lifting a hand, the skin shifted and warped until it swallowed the light on his chest. The faint glow of the arc reactor separated into beautiful streams like slithering snakes, all of them sliding from the chest and crawling over his shoulders until they coiled together and skin made way for the new light to shine behind his back.

It was like the warmth of a fireplace, back hovering over it and it seeped into his skin.

And the world went white again, for a brief moment that he did not shy away to watch its brilliance. The world went dim again, and there was a longing for him to keep bringing back this brilliance, this radiance, this beauty that made him stop and want to reach out for it like a tiny child reaching for the illuminating stars overhead.

The bug was swatted.

But—

Two pulsing hearts; two more hearts he wanted swatted. Two hearts that were beating rapidly as he stepped towards them, two poisonous, dirty, ugly, parasites that he wanted erased from the face of the earth.

His repulsors whined.

"Mr. Stark!"

And just like that, the world came crashing like an avalanche of falling ocean waves, pulling him under and drowning him into this bleak world that was not beauty and perfection like he had seen. The stillness of the moment gone, and the time alongside it that was frozen just for him suddenly started rushing fast forward, and he stumbled a little from trying to fit in.

Rogers and Barnes were standing in front of him, both of them looking pale and flushed at the same time, breathless and hands trembling. Rogers was standing slightly in front of Barnes, frantic eyes staring at his own faceplate, one arm spread over his friends' chest while the other was aimed at him, like a silent warning for him to stop and not come closer.

(Thrown away, like _he_ was the trash, and that blood-stained pile of shattered glass behind the man was worth piecing together to make everything whole.)

The Black Panther was standing close him, clawed fingers wrapped around his wrist where the repulsors were still waiting to go off at his command. Everyone was frozen, all eyes watching for his next move.

And amongst the crowd he found Iron Man staring back at him. It was red and gold with scratch marks and dents and a big hole of where it had been impaled. It looked heavy, and it had several bullet holes lodged in the armor.

The more he stared at it, the more he felt disdain with how utterly fragile it was. This thing that was nothing in comparison to the one he was wearing right now.

"Stark."

Barnes was talking to him, but didn't come closer ( ~~he'll bite Barnes' throat and bleed him dry~~ ).

Rogers was still keeping away, unsure and wary ( ~~as he should be, _traITor_~~ ).

"They took Jason. He's gone."

He shrugged off T'Challa's hold on his arm, the whine finally silencing itself, and he finally addressed everyone and everything in the room. Spider-Man was holding Steve's young counterpart, and the crying was muffled that he could concentrate. He looked around, taking in the bodies that were both unconscious, dead, and some bounded by web strings. It wasn't long when several Taskforce officers came in, having worked on evacuating bystanders while trying to screen for anyone who was suspicious (which was practically everyone these days). There was several people in cuffs, two of which Tony recognized as the men who first attacked him and Richards, killed the social workers, and set off this entire fiasco.

First HYDRA, and now AIM. 

He was going to need a bigger fly swatter, and he was going to make sure that they stayed dead.

"Bring them in for interrogation," Tony ordered, voice metallic yet clear for all to hear him. 

"Sir!"

Movement from faraway made Tony look beyond the swarm of men to find people taking pictures and recording videos in their, ironic enough, Starkphones. No doubt this was already streamed live and trending to the rest of the world, hidden faces brought to the light, and all of them sandwiched together like a Sunday picnic.

 _'Annoying little flies.'_ something in him seethed.

The people holding their Starkphones let out yelps of shock and pain, letting the little objects in their hands fall from their hands like they had been holding something hot. They looked spooked, and with the incredible zooming of his vision like a magnifying glass broadened for him, he saw nothing but blurs and glitches on the phone's screen.

A pleased tingle crawled over his spine (like soft fingernails scraping teasingly through the fabric of his Armani and was really touching his warm skin).

"Sir? Are you hurt?" he blinked back to focus when one Taskforce agent, a medic, stepped towards him.

"No," he said. "I feel fine."

"No you're not!" Richards stomped to his side, still wearing the damaged armor. "Stark, you got shot twice! Please, get yourself looked at."

"I feel fine." he repeated, voice calm. "I feel...  _better_."

"Secretary Ross will be notified of this, Mr. Stark." T'Challa said, mask removed as he took in the damage.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, your majesty," Tony said, his head tilted towards the rest of them, still feeling and hearing their fluttering hearts that he knew no longer belonged from the excitement of the fight. "I'll take good care to make sure this will all be cleaned up."

(No fly swatters this time, now it was the toxic spray to use against these disgusting, stain-painted insects that would not leave him alone.)

* * *

FRIDAY finally removed the armor from his body, and Reed felt relieved of the heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders and feet. Stark must have to work out in a daily basis to be constantly walking around in a heavy armor like that. Tony Stark was kind of on the short side, Reed only standing almost half a head taller than the engineer, but Stark was kind of on the bulky side. His muscles weren't as obvious as Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes (those guys were built like tanks), but the older man was by no means flimsy-looking.

For a moment, when that gunman stood over Stark with their gun aimed at his head, Reed thought it was all over.

Stark's death would mean a halt in every progress he was overseeing. Stark Industries would lose a brilliant businessman, other companies depending on him would lose a potential director, countries would lose an opportunity to keep environments clean while forwarding with their own society, younger generations would lose a role model, the Avengers would lose a hero in their midst, but most of all, the few people that Stark kept close to him would lose an incredible friend.

(And Reed would lose another important person in his life.)

But death was not what became of Tony Stark.

A flash of silver white washed over Stark, its brilliance reflecting from the gunshot blast, temporarily blinding everyone. The HUD flared brightly like they were being overflowed with power, the arc reactor in the chest of the borrowed suit of armor reacting to another power source. When Reed blinked back the brightness, when he could finally see through the camera lenses of what was going on, he couldn't help but stop and stare.

Everyone couldn't help themselves in joining in the staring.

The armor he and Scott had seen the hallway of the Tower had a single arm stretched out to catch the bullet shot at Stark's face. It was like melted liquid, half the body bursting out of the engineer's chest to form the upper half of the Iron Man torso. And then the liquid-like substance began to mold itself over like magnetic putty over a marble. The torso drew itself back until it fitted along Stark, and the gleaming armor completed the task of engulfing Tony Stark like a cocoon. Connecting itself wirelessly to the mainframe, the light spheres from the chest, pauldrons, knees, tip of its boots, palms, chin, and eyes came alive with a blue-white glow.

With inhumane grace he had seen only Vision accomplish, the suit pulled itself up like invisible strings pulling at its front until it was standing flat on its feet.

He was beginning to see how Scott found the thing disturbing.

The Iron Man suit had a feeling of something that was missing.

Little Grant was on the floor, watching this stranger in white in stunned silence.

And the whine of the repulsor signaled the end of the calm.

A flash of light threw the gunman that attempted to shoot Stark dead flew back, body crashing through the large window panes with such a force, and Reed had no doubt that if a shot by the powered-up repulsor was not enough to kill him, the fall down surely would. Another blast went to another man, and that's when things started to go out of control. 

The King of Wakanda was in the middle of subduing one man, but he got blasted. Another was trying to pull a sneak attack behind a distracted Spider-Man, but he got blasted. Several men had shaken off Rogers and Barnes, but their retreat didn't get far when several repulsor blasts hit them in their backs, all of them dead before they even hit the ground. It was all over quickly, FRIDAY taking a silent count of those mostly dead while few were left alive. The Taskforce were notified of their current location, heading straight towards them while arresting a few goons FRIDAY caught on her camera.

(But she still couldn't find Jason. Little frightened Jason who slipped right through their fingers. One toddler used as a distraction while the other was—)

The faceplate of the silver suit was pointed towards the two super soldiers.

There was a stillness in the silver-white suit that sent tremors of instinctive fear down Reed's body, and the readings on the HUD FRIDAY provided read that his heart rate was high and his anxiety level was growing. Those glowing eyes on that face did nothing to ease the wary caution Reed was feeling, the Iron Man helmet that he usually saw on television from the last few years were bright and boldly declaring attention to adoring citizens.

This faceplate was just downright cold, clean of emotions, nothing about it welcoming like the red and gold.

The repulsors gave an ominous whine, Iron Man still looking at Rogers and Barnes, not noticing the call of concerns coming from FRIDAY. The AI couldn't reach her boss, she was being blocked by that armor that was denying her access into the suit, yet she felt like something was connecting itself to her in a one-sided fashion: like a Bluetooth. Rogers shifted closer to Barnes, a protective arm shielding his companion.

"Tony!" Rogers called out, his voice not proud or confident but feeling just as uneasy as Reed was (as everyone probably was).

Stark did not answer him. The suit took a step forward, and Reed felt the back of his neck's hair rise in alarm.

"Tony...?!" Rogers tried again, taking a step back and pushing Barnes along with him. Rogers's eyes were wide with great alarm, and his other hand shot up to act as a buffer, but Stark was still walking towards them with a predatory gait. "Tony, _stop_!"

Suddenly, T'Challa stalked to Stark's side and snatched his wrist where the repulsors gave the high pitch whine, ready to go off at the command of the user. The King called Stark's name, giving him a quick shake to bring him back to whatever faraway world he seemed to have gone without anyone noticing. The suit stopped from taking another step, and everyone held their breath's.

Reed felt like a disaster had been diverted had the King not stepped up.

The Taskforce agents arrived, bringing along two of the men Reed had quarreled with earlier. They were cuffed and ready to be transported to the nearest prison available, but from what he knew, they also were viable to lead them towards the source of their troubles.

"Stark," Barnes spoke, hesitant and not daring to come closer to the man encased in silver-white. "They took Jason. He's gone."

There was devastation written on both super soldiers faces, moreso that on Barnes. Reed, though not completely comfortable like he was with Scott, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for what Barnes had gone through since being captured by Soviets in the snowy mountains. Longest recorded prison of war, Barnes knew a lot about being imprisoned by captors that kept his brain hostage for nearly seven decades, and his fear went for the little boy who he saw was going to face a repeat in tragedy.

(Don't screw this up, Reed. Don't fucking  _screw this up_!)

Stark did not say anything regarding to that disheartening news, more like he was focused on the few men that they captured in the entire shoot out and fist fight. A voice spoke, and it was nothing like the voice modulator people usually heard when Stark talked through the faceplate. It sounded so inhuman, removed from the human species like the rest of them, an entity that stood above was believed itself beyond their understanding.

"Bring them in for interrogation." Stark ordered, his voice uncharacteristically serene, mellow in a sense.

Several agents in their armored gear followed the order, sweeping through the area to collect the subdued men while some were making a few calls to bring in several body bags for the unfortunate ones. While that was happening, Reed's eyes trailed back towards the immaculate Iron Man before him, and noticed how those eyes were focused somewhere; people were taking pictures of them, and it wouldn't be long when the UN, the United States government, and Secretary Ross hear about this within twenty four hours. The Accords will not stand for this, no matter what excuse, because there will be questions and there will be a lot of probing involved with how far this could go.

It won't be long when people find out about the truth on Grant and Jason being not just orphans but alternate universal counter parts of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. It was going to be a colossal fuck up of the century, and Reed was going to be smack dab in the middle of the shit storm.

Several cries of pain made him jerk inside the armor in surprise, snapping to attention to see people dropping their phones. There was a dangerous wisp of smoke, like the chip inside the smartphones were fried to a crisp. The HUD in front of him frizzed momentarily, FRIDAY's voice distorted before returning.

"What was that?" he asked her, worried.

_"It was like an electric magnetic pulse, but more thorough on what it would target, Dr. Richards."_

The suit. It had to have been. Stark was looking their way, not at all pleased that this information was getting leaked and reaching the eyes and ears of people he didn't want snooping so close to his business.

Just what else was that armor capable of?

He found the answer quite soon when a man, a medic by the red cross badge on his arm, came up to Stark after looking around with the others and Reed for a check up. Reed finally thought that the older man would shed off the suit and return to the rest of them with his surly face and attitude to greet the rest of them with an insult or two. But that was not what happened.

A shot to the temple and another in the gut apparently didn't qualify for medical attention in Stark's dictionary.

Stark's refusal finally pushed Reed into action, having enough of this flighty emotion the suit emitted from him. "No, you're not! Stark, you got shot twice! Please, get yourself looked at."

Those eyes were boring down on him, and even with the faceplate covering his own, he had a feeling Stark knew the kind of effect he had on Reed.

"I feel fine." Stark said, voice firm with new belief, with new reverence. "I feel...  _better_."

There was more he probably wanted to say, something more meaningful of what Stark was actually feeling because the word didn't do it justice. The sunlight gave it a sparkling gleam, and Reed saw from the reflective surface that the Iron Man suit he was currently occupying was heavily damaged by the mysterious machine still sitting neatly in the middle of the giant walkway there standing in where the fight took place. Here was Reed Richards, a pile of clunky junk while Tony Stark was standing in this new, sleek, light, and impenetrable suit of armor that didn't lose its polish nor shine from the hailing bullets fired upon him.

"Secretary Ross will be notified of this, Mr. Stark." T'Challa said.

The Black Panther still stood between Stark and the super soldiers, a position most curious because Reed wasn't blind to the animosity between them. Of all the others, Stark held a deep resentment for Rogers and Barnes, their previous relationship from the news clippings to the recorded shots on television blown out the window like two people meeting for the first time after one of them spat on the other's shiny shoe. And Barnes looked like he was standing in a tug-of-war battle, trying to play peacemaker yet failing miserably, and Rogers' attempts to be civil with Stark was met with nothing but hostility. The genius didn't even spare a glance at Romanoff, and the rest of the rogue group were nothing but collateral damage that happen to be living in the prison cells that were their secured apartment dorms.

The Wakandan gave Stark a meaningful look.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, your majesty," Stark said, giving the King and the super soldiers his glowing eyes, never once removing the faceplate the entire time. "I'll take good care to make sure this will all be cleaned up."

And that just cemented the deep concern growing in Reed.

With Jason long gone from their reach, it was up to the interrogation team to figure out where they were keeping the little boy, what they were planning, and what sort of plan of attack they could proceed with all the while fending off Ross and the U.S. government.

FRIDAY removed herself from Reed, and he blinked and breathed the air polluted with gunsmoke. He was shaky when he stepped out of the safety of the suit, and he tried not to look at the bodies of men lying all around him, so he instead focused his attention on more important matters while Stark and T'Challa dealt with the issue.

Spider-Man was standing off to the side with the trembling Grant in his arms. The medic was giving a quick look over the boy, his actions all the while being monitored by Barnes and Rogers, protective as ever over the little boy after failing to protect the other now missing child. Spider-Man, young as he sounded, was whispering gentle encouragement in his little ears, telling Grant how brave he was to try and protect the ' _metal man_ ' from the gunman even though he was too small to do so. The teen's hand giving gentle pats and circular rubs on Grant's back, keeping his head tucked to Spider-Man's neck to keep the boy from watching the bodies being picked up, bagged and tagged.

"You alright?" he asked the teen, nodding at the medic who excused himself to rejoin the others to pick the bodies up, secure the perimeters, and discuss the next course of action with the Taskforce.

"Y-yeah," the teen nodded slowly, voice low. "I just... I wasn't expecting that."

"Not like Germany, huh?" Barnes mumbled, hand reaching up to gently clasp the tiny fist on Spider-Man's shoulder.

The boy didn't pull away from the touch, not shying away from Barnes. Most likely too shocked that he needed positive and gentle touches after being handled around like an object by his would-be kidnappers, not exactly caring who was giving it so long as they weren't the bad guys.

"No," the teen shook his head, staring at the floor, probably trying hard not to stare at the bodies because he himself was a child, and the idea just struck the scientist.

Reed stepped a few spaces to block out the horrifying image. The scientist was also stricken from the violence he had just faced moments earlier, but these two were young people, and if Spider-Man could take care of a toddler's needs before his own, Reed was going to be an adult and protect the teen and child as well.

"I mean," the teen paused, looking ahead where Stark and the others had disappeared. "That suit."

 _'I'm not alone,'_ he thought.

He wasn't being paranoid then.

"You... you felt something, too?" he asked the red and blue clad youth, feeling stupid for asking but wanting to voice his suspicions.

"It, that suit, it just—it felt _wrong_. Like, uh, like it was something else and not Iron Man, ya know? And, the weird thing, I didn't even _sense it_! And I can sense things like a bullet flying at me from behind, but this... it like appeared out of  _nowhere_."

"Yeah," Rogers slowly nodded, exhaling shakily. 

"Is that the suit Lang and Romanoff were talking about? That project with the alien whatever it was to make that thing?" Barnes asked, sole hand still holding Grant's, and the mention of the alien material made Spider-Man look up curiously.

"It is, it had to be the suit." Reed said. "It's... unlike anything I had ever seen. The way it just wrapped itself around him, one moment liquid the next solid alloy. And how it contained the arc reactor... that's not something entire man made."

"It's weird." Spider-Man murmured, ducking his head as if embarrassed he said it out loud.

There was a pause between them, only Grant's muffled whimpering sobs the only noise surrounding them.

"It is." Rogers agreed quietly.

"It's different." Barned commented.

"It is..." Reed licked his dry lips. " _Superior_."

And it _scared_ them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like hell I was gonna post this on 4th of July, no matter how salty I feel (I'm looking at you Steve).


	23. Boogey-Man III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not hiding under the bed  
> It's not hiding in the closet  
> It's not hiding in the shadows

"Okay, this is what's going to happen. And no, this isn't me asking for permission, I've done that and all I got was more trouble. This is me  _telling you_ what I want you to do. I don't care anymore what you want, you just do it and that's that. Understand?"

Tony barley twitched when the medic pulled at the skin at the temple of his head, careful in closing up the bloody gash where the bullet missed him by a hairs breath.

Romanoff looked like she was leisurely sitting in some comfortable space rather than sitting in a sterile medical room, a glass wall separating her and Tony from the rest of everyone else moving frantically outside their room. Richards was also getting checked by another medic, but he was mostly unharmed, only shaking from the adrenaline of almost being blown to smithereens by a large group of gunmen. It wasn't long when Richards was dismissed, and with one last look back to Tony, he strode out of the medical bay.

He probably did not want to be here when Ross showed his mug to the Tower. As did everyone else. Tony made sure to have FRIDAY keep them locked up in the Hulk room after that shitty stunt when they had, predictably, forced their way out of the van holding them in. The soldiers had been taken by surprise, losing contact with Tony from inside while also prevented from calling for back up which made it all the more easy for both super soldiers to break out of the van and run off. 

This cycle of everything always going wrong just as it was making itself work was honestly getting tiresome.

Now there was another problem he had to tackle: getting the missing boy back. Tony was not going to have a repeat in history with a Winter Soldier Jr. running rampant.

(He'll crush it before it has a chance to.)

The red-haired spy was still healing, the bruises almost fading but still there for Tony, and everyone else, to see the damage. Almost like she was expecting some sort of sympathy by reminding Tony that he had actually physically assaulted her, and some other time he probably would have been appalled, but no. There was not a single shred of regret stemming from his mind, there was only the wish that he could do more to her than just a simple slug to her face. But in due time, he thought viciously, she was going to get what she got coming to her.

And until then, he still had some use of her skills, temporary as they would be.

"You want me to interrogate them," she said, not at all surprised given that she already knew the Taskforce brought in several of the survivors.

"Very astute of you." Tony pushed himself off the medical bed, nodding and dismissing the medic. "I'll be asking them questions and you'll be there to pick apart what answers they give me."

She nodded, consenting in taking part of this (not that she had a choice).

"I just want to be clear on one thing: don't try anything. The second you do or say something I don't like, I won't just remove you—I'll personally throw you at Ross' feet for him and his posse to tear apart as an appetizer before they move on to the main course."

"You're on a time limit." Romanoff noted, voice quiet.

"Well, I could do this quickly or I could do this  _very quickly_." Tony couldn't help but give her a wicked smile.

There was no way to fight out of this, she could try to talk her way out or pull at his non-existent strings of sympathy for when they had been a team, but that would either slow or hasten her way towards the encroaching prison that was coming full speed ahead. Either way, she was screwed. Natasha Romanoff was not important as she made herself out to be, no longer was SHIELD or Stark Industries there to keep her safe, she was utterly alone and she knew that he wouldn't bat an eyelash when they tore her to pieces in front of him.

"Where do we do this?"

"Right this way."

* * *

For the first time in but a few years, he wanted to kill people again.

There had been enough blood on his hands, too many to count that he lost the numbers, but he swore that  _never again_ would he fall back to those dark days where the smell of copper and the deafening sound of bullets were as familiar as breathing to him. He just wanted to live a simple life, try to disappear in the stream of time where everything was so new that it was hard, but slowly he was building himself a new life that did not have to do with killing or hurting or blackmailing.

He had finally got a job at a warehouse back in Romania. He didn't talk to a lot of people, too scared to really go out and know them, but they were kind enough to let him be and he was ever thankful for that. He got himself an apartment, moving out of his hiding places from under bridges or abandoned buildings, sealing away his windows to keep from others looking in (to keep others from finding him). He had money, he had a job, he had a home... He was living for himself, slowly reconstructing who he was before and then trying to figure out what he wanted to do with this new life, and where he wanted to take himself. A feeling of independence that was new and frightening because there was no orders, no chambers, no  _chairs_ waiting for him when he turned the corner or opened his eyes... but that feeling of freedom didn't last long.

(But then Steve came for him, and suddenly everyone was coming for him, and now here he was. How _childish_. Nobody was going to give up on Bucky  ~~or the Winter Soldier~~.)

He thought he had put it behind him. He thought that he would never have to pick up a gun (he only needed them when there was a real threat, like the  _other_ Soldiers), but again, he was wrong.

Because he watched helplessly as those bastards took the two boys out of the dead arms of the people trying to protect them, he heard from the distance their fearful cries and sobs, and when only one child was recovered—

These people did not deserve to live. He would destroy and uproot the entire world to get Jason back, to see the little boy safe and from harm's way. He wanted to go into that cell and rip those men—

"Comfy?"

Bucky snapped to awareness.

The guards watching their cells were long gone, and he had been too engrossed in drilling scorching holes into the heads of the assholes who had taken part in Jason's kidnapping. There was only him, Steve, Black Widow, and Stark, and the older man and woman stepped inside the cell the men were held up in. Bucky stiffened, wondering what the fuck Stark was thinking of stepping inside as it was two against almost a dozen of men who were probably capable enough to bring him down, weaponless or not.

But before any of them could make a move, something shifted from Stark's body.

The black blazer he had been wearing suddenly morphed into a gauntlet, and everyone heard the tell tale sign of a repulsor about to be discharged. Bucky felt himself freeze, watching the fabric turn into something solid, turn into a weapon.

"Unless you want to get blown up in the face, I suggest you don't move from your spot."

Bucky heard Steve move beside him, his eyes tracking Stark as the engineer gestured for Widow to the group.

"Which one?"

She did a quick scan of them before she picked out one man. Probably picking out the weakest link of them all, likely to break or blabber information. Black Widows weren't only good at killing and fighting, they gathered information not from files, datas, but from people as well. The singled out man was dragged out of the cell by Widow, and Stark moved them to a table with a couple of chairs. The engineer grabbed the man from Widow's hold and threw him on the ground, letting him fall while Stark himself took a seat on an available chair. Widow said nothing, standing carefully away and watching the proceedings with a blank face.

"So, it seems your company and mine are at a crossroads leading to an epic clusterfuck." Stark began nonchalantly.

"That's exactly what we were counting on, asshole." the man on the floor smugly stated, and Bucky's blood boiled. "You didn't think you would hide that secret to yourself, did you?"

 _'Traitor.'_ Bucky instantly caught, seeing the Widow's gaze shift towards Stark's head in alarm.  _'There's a mole. Someone leaked information.'_

"Wow," the engineer huffed. "This really isn't going take long in finding the kid with the way you blabber. So I got a traitor here, huh? Well, you're going to have to be specific, buddy, I'm surrounded by them on a daily basis. To which one are you referring?"

"Dammit Tony..." Steve whispered quietly, Bucky said nothing.

The man then clamped his mouth shut, no longer wanting to spit insults because he apparently was smart enough to know that his words would be interpenetrated as information Stark and Widow would need in order to track the missing child down. Oh, if only they would let Bucky interrogate that little shit stain, he would have him squealing for information in but a few seconds—

The suit disguised as a blazer ripped through the air to the man's arm, melted around it before bending it in an unnatural angle. There was a moment of frozen surprise gathered all around the people who heard the bones break and the muscles rip before everything caught up and the man was suddenly squealing like a pig on the floor.

But his squeals were suddenly muffled when the silver and black mass forced itself way down his throat, and Bucky watched with wide eyes as the man's neck bulged and his eyes water.

"Buddy," Stark spoke, ignoring everything and everyone around him. "You better tell me what I want to know, or this is going to go a lot quicker and I could move onto the next guy to tell me what I want."

"Tony—" Widow started, face calm but her eyes were telling enough, even Bucky felt something like dread growing in his gut. He didn't have to look over to his shoulder to see how horrified Steve must be, it was probably also written on Bucky's own face.

(Tony Stark was once a target. He read about him, studied him, even the collected data of after Afghanistan to reevaluate his threat level when Iron Man took to the skies. So Bucky knew that this—this was like watching a predator act out of character, become unstable and unpredictable that others of its nature began to avoid it if possible.)

"Don't try anything, Agent~" Stark warned the red-haired Widow, a cold smile on his lips. "Don't try _anything_."

It was like watching someone hold a bullet over your head, gun cocked and ready to go without warning.

Stark pulled his arm back and the liquid drew back from the choking man who didn't waste time in throwing up. There was a dark patch surrounding the man's groin area, and Bucky watched as the man whimpered while clutching his broken arm.

"So, let's try this again." Stark sat down again, leaning back in his chair while crossing his legs where the shine of the lights above reflected on his shiny, expensive shoes. "Tell me what I want to hear and I can make this whole thing go as _painless_ as possible, yeah?"

And for the next hour, he, Steve, and the Widow had no choice but to watch Tony Stark go through the entire group, his suit acting as a method of torture that he wielded for whatever instrument he would use on the unwilling victim of the current interrogation.

(And Bucky suddenly remembered why he turned away from it all. He suddenly remembered why he never wanted to pick up another gun or knife again after watching Stark.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long, had a writer's block because I didn't want to deal with Ross' bullshit, and I didn't know how to write him. Well, he's coming whether I want him to or not.


	24. Magnifying Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like when you once had a magnifying glass, and you couldn't help but go outside and looked deeper into finding things you never knew until that moment you wanted to find.

T'Challa watched from an unseen corner as the soldiers carried out the last body bag from the floor, and he knew the only reason he was able to watch the entire proceedings undisturbed was because Stark's AI was allowing this.

She, too, knew something was terribly wrong with Stark, and she was working with whatever means to reach her goal in getting back her old " _boss_ ".

He had done a head count on the people they had taken into custody, so he knew immediately after watching them carry out the black bags, that all men were dead after a thorough interrogation by Stark. It seemed the man no longer cared about the duties entrusted to him by Everett, becoming more and more unpredictable that the AI could no longer keep up with her boss. His behavior patterns no longer made sense to the young AI, and he knew deep in his heart that something was indeed amiss with the Stark genius. He only needed to see how pale the Black Widow, a woman bred to kill and dismantle everything she was directed to, when she was dismissed to join everyone back at the apartment floor.

(FRIDAY did not want to reveal the footage in the cell block, and he could only imagine just how abhorrent it must have been for everyone that must have been forced to watch and hear the entire proceedings. But perhaps that had been the entire point.)

"Where is Dr. Richards?"

_"He is in the workshop. Please find the nearest elevator, your majesty, I'll take you to him."_

Computer algorithm that she was, it was like she was barely holding back a tidal wave of distress from filtering out into the open air, and T'Challa only felt nothing but sympathy for her. He quickly made for the nearest elevator, dodging other Taskforce soldiers, and he found the doors open for him when he turned the corner.

The scientist, T'Challa saw as he walked into the lab, was sitting on a random workbench, bent over and staring at nothing. The one-armed machines that the young king had seen interact with the children with such enthusiasm were move slowly across the entire floor, cleaning up whatever mess or waving away the dust that littered on several crooks and crannies they were able to reach into. On a nearby ancient-looking sofa was the young Spider-Man (Peter Parker, T'Challa's sources told him) lying down with the sleeping toddler resting on his chest. He could see from the distance the tear tracks on the boy's face, no doubt beyond scared of what had transpired.

The man blinked when he finally noticed T'Challa's presence standing close to him, startling a little in his seat before quickly composing himself.

"Your majesty."

"How are you?" he couldn't help in asking. After all, the doctor was not used to that sort of danger. The young king couldn't help in silently praising the other man for not having run to the hills after each and every disaster.

It seemed like a long and tiresome full day when actually it was only just a few hours since the incident at the airport.

"Fine, I suppose..." Richards muttered, staring at his hands. They appeared to be trembling, only slightly if someone looked carefully enough.

The Wakandan looked back to the entrance, making sure that no one but himself and the scientist were alone in the lab. T'Challa considered the sleeping teen on the couch, but after listening intently for any shift of breathing pattern differences, he turned to Richards.

"Dr. Richards, I need you to listen to me very carefully. We do not have a lot of time before the Secretary arrives, but while I can keep him at bay, there is an important task I need you to look into." T'Challa eyed the other gravely. "And it is something you need to do without Stark knowing."

The look of uncertainty was plainly written on the other scientist's face, and T'Challa waited for his answer. This was a bit of a gamble he was throwing out given that the other had spent a lot of time with Stark, but he could see that Richards' heart was in the right place, acting as another voice of reason when the Colonel was not in the room with the genius billionaire. Whatever the relationship, T'Challa was counting on the man's concern for Stark to follow through with this attempt to discover Stark's downward spiral.

"Is this going to get us trialed for possible domestic terrorism...?" Richards asked slowly, face scrunching with dread from behind his glasses.

"That depends," the Wakandan pulled out a small fingernail-sized tube of something trapped inside. "Can you perchance make out what this is made out of?"

Richards' eyes widened.

"How the hell did you get that?!" came the harsh whisper as Richards took the tablet, pulling his glasses to get a better look. "This is part of Stark's suit!"

"My claws are sharp, but they serve another purpose: they can take samples and seal them away in these little containers I put inside." T'Challa said, staring down at the tube. "I don't know what you will find, but something tells me this is a clue as to why Stark is becoming more unlike who he is."

That sentence made Richards pause for a moment.

Both men had interacted with Stark for only a short amount of time, T'Challa more so, but both of them could feel the air surrounding the engineer and the rest of the Avengers that things were not right. And T'Challa could pinpoint when everything started to fall apart: when Stark had awaken from coma.

Ever since then, the man had refused to sleep, refused to eat, and had refused all notions of communication between him and everyone else. People closest to him were being shoved out into the cold, Stark was building himself a wall where he was trapping himself, refusing to bend and break for anyone and no one. The attempts to mend what was broken ignored, and while T'Challa understood, something still disturbed him.

The cold glow of something faceless staring back at him from the airport was what prompted T'Challa to take a sample from the suit as it was shifting from Stark's body, and he prayed that whatever happened that it would erase the black clouds that fogged a brilliant man's vision, for he feared what next the man would do should this continue to escalate into the extreme. And T'Challa knew he wasn't the only one who thought such things.

"I'll see what I can find." the scientist promised.

"That is all I ask, Dr. Richards." T'Challa then turned away, preparing himself for the upcoming meeting between Ross and Stark.

Meanwhile, Richards stared down at the tube containing the shape-shifting suit while looking around for what tools he could use to experiment on it. Thankfully, Stark wasn't lacking on that department, and it didn't take long for the scientist to get started on his newest project.

* * *

Secretary Ross came in like a hurricane.

Everett braced himself for the shitstorm that was about to overtake the entire meeting room. He could already feel a headache and nobody was sitting down in their respective seats. Jesus Christ, so much for being a Deputy Commander in the Taskforce, he had probably been better off as some military attorney. At least he hadn't been left entirely alone, Everett thought as T'Challa strode inside the room whilst straightening out his immaculate dark blue suit.

Hopefully, with the presence of a royal, Ross won't do anything too drastic. It wouldn't bode well for the Secretary to be making threatening remarks to not only a political figure but someone who had much valuable resources in his country. Everyone just had to look at Captain America's shield and remember just what exactly they used to defeat Nazis and terrorists.

"Your majesty," Secretary Ross greeted from the head of the table, a not-so-subtle indication that he was throwing his place of power in their faces. "So good of you to join us."

"I would not want to miss this, Secretary." T'Challa answered, taking a seat across from Everett.

"Of course." the older man grunted, staring down at the Wakandan. "And good thing, too. I believe there are some matters concerning you, as well."

 _'Well shit,'_ Everett thought, biting his inner cheek.

"Hey, look who showed his mug," Stark strolled right in, ignoring everyone as his dark eyes zeroed in on Ross. "Put on a little weight, Thaddy? Tends to happen when people sit too long behind their big oak desks, having lovely secretaries at their beck and call."

"You are aware that I have the authority and jurisdiction to have you and your entire crew placed under arrest for conspiring against the Accords, which you and T'Challa have signed, harboring international fugitives, and using resources and manpower behind the UN's back?" the old general glowered, lips curling.

Not waiting for an answer, Ross pulled out a tablet from his folder that he placed on the table, flicking it to show a holographic images from satellite with T'Challa's jet going back and forth between the Tower and Facility, CCTV images of the Tower being surrounded by Quinjets, and several of which, Everett noticed with a grim face, taken by someone who was working inside the Taskforce, clear pictures of the rogues loitering around the living area they all were locked under.

And then, with another push of a button, more shaky camcords and pictures taken at the attack at the airport.

Rogers, Barnes, Black Panther, Spider-Man, and two Iron Man suits.

(Everett couldn't help but stare at the silver one for some reason.)

"Want to explain yourself, Mr. Stark?" Ross' eyes turned towards the Wakandan. "How about you, your  _majesty_? Want to try one for the team?"

It was obvious that he wanted someone to lick his shoes clean, wanted everyone in this room to beg for mercy for being caught red-handed. He probably take much more pleasure having both a king and a billionaire do one on each of his shoes, the fucker. Despite their best efforts to keep things quiet, Everett felt nothing but a blow to his pride for having his career ending with a bad taste to his mouth. Not to mention the snitch sitting somewhere in their midst.

"Or how about this: you want to tell me why you're suddenly playing baby-sitter to some kids?"

_'Could things get any worse?'_

Everett forced his eyes to roll open, seeing Ross pull another picture where Spider-Man was holding newly dubbed Grant from the sidelines while another held the same image where Tony Stark was sitting behind an ambulance with the same toddler sitting on his lap with a breathing mask propped on the boy's face.

"How about," Stark began as he walked closer towards Ross with a swaggering gait like he was on the verge of being drunk from one too many drinks he consumed. "We  _don't_ talk about this because it's not important at the moment because all I feel is you attacking and threatening me just to show how big and bad you are, Secretary Thunder _pants._ "

"Jesus Christ, Stark!" Everett couldn't help but exclaim out loud, glaring at the other man.

"Gentleman!" Ross snapped. "Arrest them."

Before the officers that had accompanied Ross could make a move, the holographs on the table fizzled and all eyes flickered to see that no longer were there images or shaky evidence leading them to be tried and jailed but instead were video records and pictures of something else entirely. Everett squinted his eyes, standing from his chair and taking a step closer to see what he was looking at.

On what looked to be a grainy old camera were two men sitting in the middle of a giant barren warehouse, but that's not what caught Everett's eyes. One of the men, dressed in a prison jumpsuit and chained to his seat, was Dr. Bruce Banner.

"What the hell—"

"I think you know  _exactly_ what this is Secretary." Stark interrupted, eyes never leaving Ross, the engineer's face suddenly blank.

The image than flicked to something else without any prompting, a giant lab of sorts where inside a coffin of water was Dr. Banner, dressed in only shorts as scientists and military personal shifted around. The security camera zooming in to spot a familiar General walking amongst a group of officials.

"I didn't know you had an interest for human science experimentation, Secretary." T'Challa spoke, voice cold and still as his dark gaze moved towards the quiet man at the head of the table.

"Oh, he had more interests than that, don't you Thaddy?" Stark jibed.

"We were trying to contain him—" Ross replied sharply, face pulled into a dark expression.

"That does not look like containment," Everett nodded when Banner began to spasm in his prison coffin, voltages being imbued into the water by the voltage pipes connected to the container holding him.

The footage was then replaced by files and top secret information blinking into existence within the meeting room. Everett halted from looking elsewhere when a picture caught his eye, and he reached to drag the holographic files closer that came with the picture.

"Emil Blonsky," he read out loud.

"Funny story. So, a billionaire walks into a seedy bar," Stark grinned, still never removing his eyes from Ross as he slightly tilted his head towards Everett. "Guess who that guy finds nursing over a drink at the bar's counter?"

"Stark, you little shit. Enough!" Ross snapped, furious.

"You recruited him in the attempts to capture Bruce Banner," T'Challa easily read the file from across Everett. "You were also overseeing the project to replicate the super soldier serum."

"Oh, I see," the Deputy Commander finally understood, nodding to himself. "Since you couldn't get your hands on the original, you had to go for the next best thing. Until now, that is."

"How convenient." the Wakandan sneered at the Secretary. "How very convenient for you, indeed."

"Oh, wow," Stark chuckled as he slowly made his way towards the other man, juggling files and more images in his hands. "You even used your daughter as bait to lure the jolly green giant into your filthy palms. You even had her sitting next to you on your chopper following Blonsky, or is he called Abomination these days?"

Stark suddenly paused, head snapping towards Ross. 

"How is your daughter by the way?" Stark asked. "Still talking to you? Still meeting you at a Denny's parking lot?"

"Shut your goddamn mouth!" Ross growled.

"Still acting as a Professor at Culver University." Stark read a file he summoned, zooming in on Betty Ross' profile. "She's got a promising career. And Jesus, no wonder Brucie's over the moon for her, she looks like someone who can catwalk across my lab anytime."

"You leave her the hell out of this, Stark!" roared the Secretary, eyes wide and face flushing with anger as he shifted to seemingly strike a fist against Stark's face.

Before they knew it, Stark whipped an arm forward while the sleeve surrounding his arm twisted into a silvery alloy that became an Iron Man-shaped gauntlet. The officers that had accompanied Ross, having stood in confusion at the reveal of their superior being behind human experiments and accusations of trying to imprison Steve Rogers for the serum coating his genes, broke into action by upholstering their weapons, all aiming at the back of Stark's head.

"Mr. Stark, put your hand down and step away from the Secretary."

"How about no?"

Unbothered by the many guns aiming for him, Stark pushed Ross down by his shoulder on the chair at the head of the table before making himself comfortable on the startled older man's lap. Everett felt his eyes widen like saucers, mouth slowly falling open in genuine shock. Ross looked just as bewildered as everyone else in the room, but then he winced when the gauntlet holding his shoulder squeezed in a painful manner, reminding everyone of the threat Stark wielded. There was probably going to bruises there if this kept up.

"Stark!" T'Challa barked in alarm.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh, shhh!" Stark hushed the king like he was some unruly child, pulling a naked digit to his lips to emphasize the need for everyone's complete silence.

"Get the fuck off me—" Ross demanded, but was once again silenced by the painful squeeze on the shoulder the gauntlet had, his pale eyes moving towards it with disdain.

"I'm going to cut you a deal, Thunderpants. So listen well because it's the only one you're going to get from me." Stark spoke, voice low and calm in the midst of the tension-filled room. "I'm well aware of the influence you have over everyone's fears, how much of a high standing figure you try to make yourself out as, even good old President Ellis believes you'll be the man to plow humanity through the worst barriers of trying to sustain order between people and the growing population of enhanced."

Everett felt a plug in his throat, unable to swallow it down properly.

"It'll be a shame that everyone fanboy and girl out there, every gullible military officer who looks up to you with stars in their eyes, would find out that their idol fell down in the wake of the greatest military scandal to date since HYDRA had been uprooted, all because of a few compromising photos and videos."

"Don't think you're innocent, Stark!" Ross spat, glaring at Stark with ferocity as he shifted so suddenly in his seat that it almost slid Stark off his lap. "You're just as dirty and despicable!"

"Oh, so you admit your involved then?" Stark smiled. "Nice to know."

If looks could kill, Stark would be six feet under.

"But that won't end with your uprising career." Stark continued on. "You're money will disappear out of your numerous bank accounts you have, you'll lose friends faster than you lose your cool, and every dirty secret about you will be posted on Twitter, Reddit, Tumblr, the Washington Post, The Wallstreet Journal, the New York Times, even Youtube."

Ross' red complexion verged on the beginning shades of purple.

"But I won't be done with you," Stark then lowered his voice, ducking his head close to Ross' face. "Can't tear a tree down without plucking a few apples, now can I?"

The implication was quite clear as Ross' eyes began to widen, his red fading into the much more pale spectrum.

"Those are some compromising images and videos of your daughter. Being there at the experimentation, being there at the Culver University when you trapped Bruce, and most especially being there when you took her on board your chopper."

"God _damn_ you Stark...!" 

"I'm going to let the world rip your daughter apart, I'm going to make you watch as everyone goes after her in revenge for when you let loose the Hulk and Abomination in populated areas. You'll be watching from a prison cell as people will no doubt try to kill the woman who also created what you wanted."

There was a deafening and loud silence, no one daring to move or breathe a word as they were only left to stare in absolute shock of the harmful implications thrown in Ross' face.

Was this even happening?

How did this even happen?

Everett, not for the first time, wished he was back in the court room. Hell, he wished he could take back his job as a paper pusher in the CIA.

"... What do you want?" the Secretary grudgingly bit out, glaring harshly into Stark's dark eyes.

"That a boy, Secretary Ross. I knew you'd understand." Stark tapped the older man's sunken cheeks, all teeth and sharp eyes staring back like a shark about to eat fresh blood. "I need you to keep the UN at bay, entertain them while I get busy fixing what needs to be dealt with."

"The Avengers—"

"Will no longer be Avengers anymore because I'll deal with them. Better for them to be permanently neutralized than let them be taken alive for some asshat to come along and use them as guinea pigs, am I right?"

Everett felt his insides freeze.

_'What?'_

"What?" Stark blinked at the Secretary. "You didn't think I'd let you arrest them, did you? Oh no, I'm not taking any chances with them. Soon as I get back from retrieving what needs to be brought back in my hands, I'm going to deal with them accordingly. Funny, isn't it Ross? I'm actually taking up one of your methods in dealing with the problem."

...  _What_?

"One more thing," Stark slipped off from Ross' lap, turning towards the door and moving past the stunned group of armed guards, his gauntlet morphing back into a normal-looking sleeve from his black blazer. "Make sure to give me permission to work on Indian soil, I was told by dozens of little busy bees to go there before I got tired of hearing the buzzing I just swatted them."

Secretary Ross came in like a hurricane: exciting at first, but disastrous in the end. 

* * *

"Oh, God..."

After several hours looking, researching, and quietly working, the compiling truth that Reed Richards did not want to believe was growing harder and harder to ignore the more he peeked through the microscopic glass and the data FRIDAY collected at his order.

It had been right there all along.

Reed turned towards the room across, watching young Grant and Peter (unmasked and so, so _young_ ) playing on the floor with neon tennis balls provided by the bot designated DUM-E. 

How he wished he never actually took up T'Challa's task because what he found was so much worse than anyone had ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could it be? WHAT COULD IT BE...?! Stay tuned folks!


	25. Icky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something sick and nasty is inside me.

"He did  _what_?!"

The denial on Rhodes face was understandable but it almost made Scott want to rip his hair out in frustration because Jesus Christ Stark was going to kill him and everyone! It was bad enough to hear the guy talk about putting them into the worst prison possible, some of which were located in the farthest and isolated corners of the world where there was no concept of mercy in those rural places, but Scott had enough of waiting to be killed just because he was considered a threat thanks to his dumbass idea in joining the wrong side of the fight!

"That's not Tony," Rhodes wheeled himself backwards, heading towards the elevator. "You talk some shit, T'Challa. Fuck you. That's your career on the line talking."

"Would you like to know what he did to those men we arrested at the airport?" T'Challa called after Rhodes, voice dark with grimness that matched with his eyes. "Would you like me to hack into the autopsy reports? I could do that for you, if you like."

"Autopsy reports...?" Wanda repeated, slowly like she was trying to register the words.

Like everyone in the lounging room was.

"Are you... Are you saying Stark killed them?" Clint demanded, voice twisted in disbelief, same expression when T'Challa told them of Stark's plans for them after they returned with Jason from the mission Stark and T'Challa were waiting on Secretary Ross' signal.

Holy fuck, every time the Wakandan opened his mouth, it made Scott want to barf up the food he ate earlier. The king made it sound like those baddies they caught had been tortured, slowly, taking hours to die before the next guy was picked. They probably had pushed themselves into a corner, listening to the screams of their comrades, waiting in that agonizing slow pace as death encroached closer and closer to them.

(Like screaming little lambs, listening to the wolf eat them one-by-one.)

"He did," came a quiet murmur.

Natasha had disappeared when FRIDAY sent her back via elevator from the cell block in the lower floors where the Hulk room had been situated. No one noticed her return, except for Clint and Wanda, but neither of them cared nor looked close enough to see how shaken she was as the red-head made her way to her own apartment to lock herself away for the remainder of the evening as Stark went off to his scheduled meeting with the Secretary. When T'Challa returned with the ill news, barely anyone noticed her approach, and Scott found her standing near the entrance hall which led to the guest rooms they've all taken, and the way she held herself, the way she tried to disappear in dark corners as if to protect herself from something stirred something in them for her seemingly flighty behavior.

"He killed each and every one of them." Natasha explained, her tone careful like she was trying to navigate through risky waters. "He wanted me to watch. He wanted Steve and Barnes to watch him kill those men."

"Are you lying?" Sam asked, shoulders tense and hands folded into fists.

(She lied about a lot things, Scott learned, even to those she claimed to care about. So it had everyone wondering: when was she telling the truth?)

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not, I just know for a fact that if what T'Challa said is true, Tony is going to come back... and he's going to kill every single one of us." Natasha said. "And he's going to start with me, Steve, and Barnes."

Stark had admitted to them, to Steve, that he wanted to tear the Winter Soldier piece by fucking piece.

"Why the hell should I take the word of some double-crossing spy, huh?" Rhodes angrily spat at the Russian. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't let Rogers and Barnes go off! This wouldn't have fucking happened if you didn't let those assholes get away! So stop trying to screw with our heads, you conniving bitch!"

"Stop, okay, _stop it_!" Sam butted in, raising his arms as he faced Rhodes. "I get it! Everybody got screwed over because people kept shit to themselves."

"Just calm down, alright? Things are just really tense right now, and people are just saying bullshit to scare each other, trust me." Clint added which turned to be a big mistake.

" _Trust you_?! Oh, fuck you, Barton, I don't want to hear another goddamn word! Anybody best friends with Red Sister over there don't mean a damn thing when it comes to trust, and I sure as hell don't trust you to watch my  _broken back_!" Rhodes vehemently shouted, eyes blazing with fury as he echoed the words Clint once spat in Stark's face in the RAFT.

The archer found his mouth clacking shut from that, the shame plainly written on his face but he stood his ground between the man in the wheelchair and the quiet woman behind him. Wanda shifted closer to the archer, but stopped herself from reaching out to him.

The red android remained distant in all this, choosing to remove himself but could not be away from Wanda in the event that she would try to brainwash everyone with her supernatural powers. Scott hadn't seen her red mist in so long, and it spoke how the girl was moving on without access to her powers, all the while her guard followed her like a shadow, refusing to speak unless it was an order or warning. The only thing keeping her grounded was Clint and the others, but she avoided Steve, Natasha, and Barnes like they were the plague.

Suddenly thinking back on it, being away from them almost seemed like it did some good to her.

From what he had heard, Steve had been training her to fight and Natasha on how to blend, charm, and spy, and the impression Scott got from the young woman was that she was working spontaneously on her powers. She had to be able to fight, provide cover, and get some intel on whatever sources that was useful for her teammates, and the diversity, Scott believed, seemed to make it difficult for her to focus on her powers properly. It was like Steve had been stretching her abilities thin, training her to give it all she's got rather than focus on one thing to help it grow into better control before they could move onto the next.

And maybe that's why Lagos became a disaster for her and everyone. Because Steve was putting so much expectations on her, withholding a safety net, like he was expecting her to sink or swim at the first try (and on her first mission, too!). Scott wasn't claiming to know better, but Steve's methods in teaching Wanda were probably part in why the Avengers fell apart. That man treated every disaster like: "Whoops! Better luck next time!".

The only reason the Avengers hadn't fallen apart, he was beginning to suspect, was probably because of the money, bribery, and relief Stark threw in every direction in order to keep angry government officials off their backs. And given the fact that Steve was a man with beliefs that belonged to an era long gone was also another factor in the man's lack of perception of today's political world. It was no longer black and white anymore, Scott thought, everything was now a shaded pastel which went back and forth between the light and the dark, and never back to black and white.

"It won't come to that." T'Challa spoke, breaking the dispute between Rhodes and Clint. "Please, Colonel Rhodes, tell me that you honestly believe that there is nothing wrong with your friend? That he is still the same man whom you stood by at Germany?"

Rhodes opened his mouth, wanting to snap at them to defend his friend... but the words would not come out.

It made Scott's stomach drop. If Stark's best friend couldn't deny it then they were practically convicts awaiting for their upcoming execution (literally).

Vision shifted, his gaze falling to the elevator door. "You're being summoned by the doctor, your majesty."

Why the hell didn't FRIDAY say anything?

"The suit," Vision answered the question running on everyone's mind. "It seems to be acting on Stark's behalf. His eyes and ears are literally everywhere, and FRIDAY seems to be aware of this."

"You can feel this entity?" T'Challa asked, surprised.

"Yes. As long as there is a mind, a thought, I can tell where they are." Vision stated. "The only reason Mr. Stark has not caught on to your attempts to diagnose his problem is because I'm camouflaging you all."

"You make it sound like it's alive." Sam muttered, eyes quickly taking in the hidden cameras.

Vision did not reply.

"Do you think you can relay this information to everyone else?" T'Challa asked the android. "I believe everyone needs to hear this."

"Except for Tony, right?" Rhodes glared at the Wakandan.

"Please," T'Challa gestured to the doors. "Follow me to the lab. It is of great importance that you especially should know."

Rhodes did not budge.

"If you cannot trust me, may I dare ask that you would at least place your trust in Dr. Richards?"

"... Fine. Lead the way, your highness." Rhodes scoffed.

And as the two men disappeared down to the lab floor, the television screen in the lounging room came to life by FRIDAY's will. Vision's jewel began to glow brightly, no longer focused on Wanda as they all waiting for the enigma that was Stark to unfold.

Because if it wasn't clear enough, they all needed to assess the problem and find a solution in order to break out whatever funk Stark was in that was causing him to border on becoming a murderous dictator with a shiny new toy that could morph into his killer style (literally)!

* * *

Steve sat quietly, head pressed to his knees as he tried to shut everything out. Even when he turned away, Tony made sure the prisoners would scream high and loud for him to hear it like a broken record inside his skull, bouncing around the babbling and gross sobbing of the men pleading mercy. After hours of it being long past him, he still could not pull away from this poor attempt of a tiny shelter, this need to curl up and protect himself in a way he hadn't in such a long time before Erkinsine picked his scrawny self for the project.

How did he get to this point? How did this come to watching a sarcastic and brilliant man who liked to poke fun at Steve for his lack of understanding in pop culture become a nightmare where said man was currently showing him how he was going to murder Steve and Bucky?

This wasn't real, he shook his head as closed his eyes and cupped his ears, that person was not Tony. That man was a fraud, a fake, a hallucination because Tony would never—

(Steve Rogers broke Tony Stark's heart, so Tony Stark was going to rip out Steve Rogers'.)

"We need to get out." 

Silence.

Steve, for the first time after several hours, looked up from his spot against the prison glass wall where Bucky was sitting across from Steve, also curled up just as he was. Bucky could probably still hear screaming voices echoing inside his head, same as Steve, only louder because Bucky sometimes said about the other screams he would hear when he tried to sleep.

"Bucky," Steve called. "We need to get out. The Accords aren't going to save us, Tony's not going to give us a chance to go to trial or make up to everyone. He's... he's gonna kill you and everyone."

Slowly, Bucky's face peeked from the curtain of dark hair, his eyes almost glazed over.

"So what?" came a quiet whisper.

Bucky looked so defeated.

"If it wasn't Stark, somebody was gonna come and kill us one day for what we've done. For what  _I've_ done."

Steve tried to say something, but Bucky wouldn't hear any of it.

"Stop. Making. Excuses." the one-armed man hissed angrily through his clenched teeth.

"This is murder!" Steve snapped. "He's going to kill you! He's going to kill Nat!"

"And he's going to kill you, too!" Bucky returned. "He's going to kill the people who fucking lied and went behind his back! Who used him and threw him away when you thought you couldn't squeeze enough use out of him!"

He shook his head. "It, that wasn't it, we didn't—"

"You did," Bucky slammed a fist on the floor. "You fucking did, Steve! You used him, you lied to him, and then—What did you think was going to happen, huh? Did you think it was going to be okay? Did you think he was gonna forgive you and take you all back with open arms? Did you think he was going to help me?!"

...

"How... how fucking childish are you, Steve?" Bucky croaked. "How could anyone be okay with people coming back after they used then, hurt them, ruined them, and betrayed them?"

(Remember Steve? Remember it was for Bucky? Remem— _ **SHUT UP!**_ )

Steve bowed his head.

**"—ooklyn! You there? Brooklyn!"**

Both super soldiers jerked at the voice, each of them looking for the source before quickly realizing it was coming from a communication line connected to the Hulk room. It also took Steve another second to remember who gave him that nickname.

"Queens?" Steve said out loud. "How the hell did you get access to the Tower's communications channels?"

 **"No time to explain! Dr. Richards has something to tell you guys,"** the Spider-Kid said from the other side of the line, voice excited and frantic that it was almost difficult to keep up.  **"He said he knows what's wrong with Mr. Stark."**

That got Steve's attention real quick.

* * *

"Okay, when I first started looking into what could be wrong, I just thought maybe it's the trauma and stress of what's been happening lately." Richards explained, FRIDAY providing a secured and open channel for all rogue Avengers to hear him out while Vision coated a barrier from Tony listening in on them (it still made Rhodey's stomach churn because this was just another block to pile on the numerous times people went behind his best friend). 

While Rogers and Barnes were listening from the Hulk room, the others made their way in a blind spot while using a communication device given to them by T'Challa so the AI could hack into it and open a channel for them.

Back to the question, it was the most reasonable and acceptable answer as to why Tony was on a constant warpath (though, what nobody expected was how far it was pushing against boundaries Tony never crossed). With events which everyone had turned against you, the world breathing down your neck, and shouldering the responsibility of trying to amend a law that would make both parties not be at each other's throats, of course Tony Stark wasn't going to come out 100%. No one should be surprised by this.

"Colonel, have you noticed Stark eating? Sleeping maybe?"

The question made Rhodey pause, thinking back as far as he could. But between sleeping, eating breakfast to dinner, giving the rogues some shit, and looking after the tykes, not once had Tony taken a seat to eat nor did he ever seem to leave his workshop or offices. 

"Maybe he eats when nobody's there?" Spider-Kid suggested from the side awkwardly.

That sounded like Tony. Acting like some scavenger in the dead of night, or taking cat naps on his old sofa in the lab.

 **"Can we get to the part why that matters?"** Clint demanded, sounding frustrated from what he perceived was useless babble which didn't focus on the main problem at hand with Tony's turn of character.

"FRIDAY, if you please."

From all three locations, everyone got a look of a video came focused solely on Tony Stark. The man limping out of the medical bay of the facility, the day where he had awaken from his coma, and then it all went fast forward. It took some time, almost ten to fifteen minutes, but that's when they noticed in the footage what Richards had pointed out for them. Throughout the entire time, FRIDAY showed that not once in the following weeks (nearly _two_ fucking weeks!) had Tony ever sat down to eat or lie down for brief respite like he usually did in his inventing binge as most of them were familiar with him doing so.

"What the hell..." Rhodey muttered quietly, a hand moving towards his gaping mouth as he watched Tony ignore any and all offers of food.

"Is he starving himself?" the teen in the red and blue tights asked weakly, his white lenses wide.

"Does he look different you? Notice any physical exhaustion? Hunger pains he may be experiencing?"

 **"Tony is more willing to hide cracked ribs than admit needing to visit a doctor."** Natasha spoke from the other line.

"Other than the first few days after coming out of a coma, he seemed... fine." T'Challa admitted.

"So that's when I thought maybe instead of the problem being physical and emotional... it could be something much more internal than that." Richards then grabbed for another holograph screen, and Rhodey watched him spread his arms to increase the size of the screen for everyone to get a better look. "This is Stark's MRI."

 _"These are from three months ago."_ FRIDAY added.

Around the time Tony had been found, bleeding and freezing in a dead suit after that ass-kicking he got from Rogers.

"These are the average person's brainwaves."

A new image pulled up, but these were not recorded like the usual MRI or CAT scans. This looked shoddy as a camcord.

"I, uh, stole one of the tablets Dr. Cho's medical team provided for the Avengers. She invented a hands on scanner for open field emergencies." Richards explained himself to Rhodey, embarrassed from the questioning look thrown his way.

But Rhodey focused back to the important matter because now he was seeing a vast difference between Tony's normal scans... to this  _thing_.

 **"What... What is that?"** Scott's voice stuttered for all to hear.

**"That things looks like someone shoved a fucking tree in Tony's brain!"**

"Has anyone ever heard of Cordyceps?" Richards asked out of nowhere.

Rhodey saw T'Challa and Spider-Kid both suddenly freeze in their spots. From that alone, Rhodey felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, not liking the direction of where this was going, as if it was already bad enough to know his friend was starving himself for the past couple weeks without him fucking noticing a goddamn thing!

"It's a fungus." Spider-Kid answered the question thrown at them. "It's a type of parasite."

"A parasite known to invade arthropod type insects and kill them." T'Challa also included his input unkindly.

Rhodey felt his heart leap to his throat.

 _Kill_?

Richards looked like he had swallowed one too many lemons, but he mustered on for the sake of everyone. More holographic images were pulled up, and this time they were pictures of ants with tree-like vines growing inside their bodies... terrifyingly similar to that of Tony's scans.

"This thing is slipping through the crevices of his brain tissues, slowly overtaking his mind and eating away nutrients while supplying its host with some temporary nurishment to keep him going 24/7 without a hitch."

A host. Tony was a host to a parasite fungus thing.

"How?" Rhodey croaked out, barely finding his voice in all this. "How did this _happen_...?! How did he or anybody not see this?!"

The scientist paused, swallowing thickly before giving an answer.

"There was a neural inhibitor at the base of his skull, he implanted this thing to use it as a sort of barricade against this thing from invading." he pointed at a little dot at the back and bottom part of Tony's skull. "... It was broken after he woke from coma."

There was radio silence all around, and Rhodey felt that stone cold ice building up his half-dead spine.

Barnes had been bashing Tony's head like a stubborn kid with a deflated basketball.

"This thing isn't just eating him away," Richards began again, trying to move on despite the fury emitting from Rhodey. "I also noticed in the brain scans that this parasite is centered around Stark's amygdala."

**"Amygdala?"**

"It's this group of nuclei located deep in the brain's medial temporal lobe. This is where we experience emotions." Richards turned to Rhodey and T'Challa. "Most specifically feelings of fear, rage, and aggression."

 **"... This thing is making him angry all the time?"** Sam said, surprised as everyone was feeling at that moment.

"Stark's amygdala is purposely being triggered. It's like he's, it's almost as if—"

 _"Like something is controlling him."_ Vision finished.  _"I had previously believed it was Stark's aggression acting out... but now I can feel it. It's using his anger against Rogers and everyone, hiding itself while carefully crafting its host until finally taking control for itself."_

This thing had blended in so well with Tony's behavior that Vision had barely seen it! Thank God Richards was lucky enough to notice and look for other signs!

 **"Is there a way to remove this?"** Steve spoke for the first time, but his voice arouse more anger from Rhodey. This was all his fault! This was Barnes fault! Every bad shit that fell on Tony's shoulders was because of these assholes!

"I... I don't know. I don't think so! If we tried, it'll probably kill him." Richards answered apologetically.

"And there's also the fact that this thing is sentient enough to use any means necessary in stopping any attempts to try to subdue the host."

They were talking about his little brother like he was a _thing_!

"Stop calling him that!" Rhodey snapped. "He has a name, dammit! His name is _Tony_!"

T'Challa looked immediately chastised. The others could only imagine how hard Rhodey was taking this.

 **"Question: I still don't understand how Stark is controlling the suit."** Scott broke the suspense, trying to get everyone to remove their attention at Rhodey's sharp tongue.

"Maybe the suit is... It's like some television, and that thing is using Mr. Stark as a... remote control?" Spider-Kid tried explaining, but in the end it did make sense.

 **"Wait...! Wait!"** Scott excitedly exclaimed, but given how slightly muffled it was, it meant that Scott was talking to someone in his group.  **"You said this suit wasn't successful!"**

 **"Like I said, the Mark 50 had been in the works. It met a lot of road blocks."** Romanoff answered.

**"And all of a sudden he made a break through? Out of nowhere? C'mon, what did you say before when this thing hadn't been working out for him in the beginning? What made it _work_?"**

There was a pregnant pause.

"It wasn't responding until Stark went to see Ms. Potts." Richards said, eyes dawning on a new discovery.

Before Rhodey could demand what the hell they were talking about, he was cut off by FRIDAY.

 _"Your majesty!"_ FRIDAY broke the chatter.  _"You'r being summoned by boss. Everyone, please disperse!"_

And just like that, everyone and everything before Rhodey's eyes disconnected and flickered out of existence, leaving nothing but emptiness.

 


	26. Disney Edition: The Rescuers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who will rescue me?"

"I can help!"

There was something really wrong with Mr. Stark, and it had something to do with what Dr. Richards pointed out: the parasite sitting inside his brain. The neural inhibitor Mr. Stark implanted to help better control the suit he had been previously experimenting on (the scary suit, the really quiet one that looked nothing like Mr. Stark's awesome suits from the past) was broken after some sort of accident, and without that thing, it was spreading freely without Mr. Stark noticing because he believed it was his own emotions.

Mr. Stark once told him that he and War Machine had to fight Captain America's team because they were doing things that went against the wishes of the public, and his group needed to be stopped. Much later, when he had been working on his homework in the kitchen, Aunt May had been watching the news where it was announced that Steve Rogers had broken out his teammates and all of them had disappeared. The Black Widow had also been included, someone who previously fought on Mr. Stark's side before turning for the other team.

But there was bad blood like Peter had never seen at the airport. The way Mr. Stark coldly regarded everyone, even with little Grant that Peter had been carrying in his arms when they were taken back to the Tower to escape from the attention of the people with phones out. And let's not forget the way Mr. Stark, wearing that silver Iron Man suit, his gauntlet about to go off when he looked at Steve Rogers and the one-armed Bucky Barnes. Peter never understood, but some instinctive sense told him that Stark was not entirely all there with them.

There was still a lot of things he didn't really understand with what was going on between the Avengers, but he knew one thing for sure: the first step in helping it come back together was by first helping a teammate in need.

(Mr. Stark, who years ago saved a little kid that thought he blasted a dangerous Hammer Drone with his toy gauntlets, "Nice work, kid." before flying off into the chaotic night, leaving that awed child watching him from behind a plastic Iron Man mask.)

And there was nothing more important to Peter than helping Mr. Stark like he had that night. He wanted to prove to everyone, especially to Mr. Stark, that he could do more than just nice work, that Spider-Man could stand side-by-side with the Avengers, and that he could help people who were asking for aid in the first place. This suit had been given to him for a reason, and he was going to use it to do it damn best in saving people.

And he was going to start by saving Mr. Stark from the freakish mind-controlling monster that was threatening to eat his brains!

So that was how Peter went rushing after War Machine, or Rhodey as Mr. Stark called him, wheeling himself down the hallway with the King of Wakanda keeping up with him. Holy crap, he was walking next to an actual king!

"Mr. Rhodes, sir, I can help!" Peter insisted as he pulled out his phone, showing him his contact list where Happy's name was there.

"Dammit, kid, for the last time you're not going to India!" Rhodey told Peter, which made him stumble and quirk his brows in confusion because that's not what he was referring to.

Then Rhodey's hand grabbed for Peter's, closing the phone and Rhodey was giving him a warning look, eyes flicking to the ceiling.

Oh, Peter's eyes widened, the evil Mr. Stark could be watching them through with his silver suit acting like a Blue Tooth for him to see and hear things, making FRIDAY unable to detect it and thus she was careful to guide them in isolated spots. A light tracing against his hand made him blink, looking down behind his mask as Rhodey began tracing something for him while talking.

"You got homework to do. You doing a summer school project?"

"Y-yeah." Peter nodded easily. "But I thought I could do some more, you know?"

"I know, kid," Rhodey nodded, still tracing a finger on his hand which Peter quickly read the pattern on.

F-I-N-D-H-A-P-P-Y

"So is it just Mr. Stark and King T'Challa?"

"No," the Black Panther king said as Rhodey continued to trace letters. "Vision will be joining us. They already moved Ms. Maximoff into a secure location."

T-A-K-E-G-R-A-N-T-N-O-T-S-A-F-E

That... was going to be hard. How in the heck was he going to explain his aunt why he was babysitting a toddler? Memories of the airport resurfaced and Peter cringed at the thought that someone could be watching out for the little tyke. He would probably have to first find a inconspicuous bag big (and safe) enough to fit a toddler for him to carry out of the Tower. With how dire everything was right now, Peter would probably have to recruit his best friend Ned (hopefully without giving away too much).

"I guess... I got to go do my homework." Peter shrugged, distracted by the letters.

G-O-A-F-T-E-R-T-E-A-M-L-E-A-V-E-S

Right. It was like waiting for a parent to leave before the kids would throw a house party. Except this was balancing on human lives here!

"Where will you be, Colonel?" T'Challa turned to Rhodey.

"I'll be meeting up with Deputy Commander Ross. Need to go over the information Tony _acquired_ from the prisoners until Ross gives us the green light."

P-H-O-N-E-S-E-E-E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G

Of course, Peter remembered as he looked down his new phone given to him by Mr. Stark, along with other electronics that had cameras and tracking devices. Evil Mr. Stark could be listening in on everything, so he was going to have to send Happy encrypted messages, but that was going to be so hard because that dude barely answered his texts. Or, it could be because Peter had been pestering him the past couple weeks in boredom and impatience, wanting to start another mission that got his blood pumping that Happy didn't bother with him.

F-I-N-D-P-E-P-P-E-R

"Okay, I'll," Peter pulled away, Rhodey's hand slipping from him. "I'll see you when I see you guys."

"Take care Spider-Kid." Rhodey said gravely, eyes stern.

"I will. I promise."

Peter got his work cut out for him.

* * *

"There you are."

T'Challa was already suited up in his battle gear, masking tucked under his arm with Vision joining his side when the Wakandan exited the elevator, both of them walking towards the landing pad that was beyond the glass window pane with Stark waiting for them in his black flight undersuit. Despite being a man more focused in building, navigating his business empire, and dealing with politicians, Stark kept himself in good fighting form, his frame had a slight hint to bulkiness in it, hinting to some training Stark as well as the weight he carried from walking around in heavy suits.

"I take it that India agreed cooperation with us?" Vision asked, making conversation for it seemed he sensed T'Challa's apprehension after the revelation that Stark was being manipulated by some alien entity harbored within his skull. Good thing, too, as it gave T'Challa a chance to quickly compose himself from the small hiccup and retain the image Stark wanted to see: a tool in keeping things in order.

"Yeah," Stark nodded as he turned towards the Quinjet outside. "They gave in real quick when we mentioned some terrorists that could possibly unleash exploding human bombs."

"Exploding human bombs?" T'Challa repeated, eyeing Stark dubiously.

"Remind me to tell you about Aldrich Killian and Maya Hansen some other time." was Stark's only reply.

"You are well enough to be taking on a mission?" T'Challa asked, spotting the stitched temple on Stark's face. "You were shot in the gut if I recall correctly.

"Don't worry about that, the suit has a numbing patch pressing against me. Helps me work without having to twiddle my thumbs on a medical bed." Stark said, dismissing the concern of the fact he had been shot not too long ago.

"But you will get is properly looked after when this is done, won't you" T'Challa persisted, staring at the older man.

"Aw," Stark feigned affection, batting eyelashes at him. "How sweet of you. Do you care for little ol' me that much?"

"Believe it or not, Mr. Stark," T'Challa said, voice firm. "You'd be surprised to know how many people actually care for you."

The false smile slipped off Stark like the Mark 50 would slip away from its ~~host~~ owner, eyes dark and face shadowed.

"You're right, your majesty," Stark spread his arms, a twisted smile that did not belong plastered on his foreign face. "I don't believe it."

A soldier motioned for them to enter the Quinjet that was prepared for take off towards the west on the couple hours long trip to India where the terrorist cell AIM was based. They had been dawdling too long, and the Black Panther king feared for the safety of the young Bucky Barnes counterpart, praying to the Panther god for mercy, but the growing concern with Stark had been setting everyone back. T'Challa froze from taking a step when something slithered at the corner of his peripheral. 

The Mark 50.

The menacing silver crawled it's way up like cascading water upside down. With knowledge, T'Challa slowly understood why this thing seemed to disturb everyone; it was the fact that Stark allowed this thing to  _consume_ him, to  _engulf_ him, to even  _devour_ him. A parasite that was eating him, both figuratively and very much literally. Finally, the liquid took shape and the illumination of the arc reactor seemed to create more shine on the reflective suit. The words spilled out before the young royal could stop himself.

"How subtle." T'Challa remarked.

It was like a neon sign of attention. Flaunting it around to show its superiority over the other previous suits, but there was a hint to malevolence rather than the usual liveliness the former and red and gold used to bring. 

"It's sexy as hell." Stark retorted without missing a beat, cracking a small smile.

"Shall we?" Vision asked.

"We shall." 

All three of them stepped outside, the winds of the high altitude blowing by and causing Vision's cape to flutter like silk. They entered the Quinjet, and T'Challa turned one last look towards the building, offering one last prayer.

That Dr. Richards and the Avengers will find a way to cure this madness forced upon Tony Stark.

* * *

"All this waiting really bites me in the ass."

Clint didn't shift from his spot near the window, watching two Quintjets shoot off into the distance until he could no longer keep track of it with his keen eyesight. He turned and gave a slight nod to Sam. Just because Tony was gone from the building didn't mean he didn't leave an ear or eye behind to keep track of them, so they needed to be extra sneaky about what they did in order to avoid being caught by the billionaire without raising an alarm.

"You all set to go, Spidey?" Clint asked the kid as he gathered his text books into his Jansport pack.

"Yeah, I'll talk to you guys later." the kid gave a jerky wave, and Clint nearly winced at how forced the motion looked.

If Tony planned on truly recruiting him to join the Avengers once Spider-Man turns eighteen (God, how old was he? 14? 15?), the kid needed to be disciplined on how to lie without revealing little tics that would make it obvious to others that he was trying to deceive them. If given the chance, Clint would have probably figured out most of the kid's identity within a few hours in one whole day, but since he was imprisoned inside the Tower, he could only go by the high school text books and the teenage behavior the enhanced youth in red and blue was displaying.

Yeah, long hour sessions for this one.

And the kicker to this?

Their very lives were in the hands of a frazzled scientist who was looking into Tony's condition in order to reverse what the guy did to himself in the name of science as well as a high school student who was having some trouble with his Spanish class. Jesus, what was the world coming to (excluding aliens, murder bots, and liars)?

Grant, the kid who had carefully kept away from Tony because no way was it safe for a toddler to be near a volatile angry super genius in that state, was dressed lightly in a T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers picked out for him by Clint. He was placed in a hidden blindspot that Nastasha remembered, having planned on telling Tony about it some long time ago until it slipped from her mind and everything went to shit between them all. Spider-Kid walked by, slowing down to pretend he got all his things.

"You alright?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Spider-Kid answered loudly, kneeling down next to Grant and unzipping his backpack to remove the textbooks and journals from inside to carefully guide Grant closer. "Just wanna make sure I got everything. Ms. Espinoza would kill me if I lose another homework assignment."

"That happen often?" Clint continued the conversation, feigning humor as he carefully watched the little boy being put inside the backpack, Spider-Kid motioning for the little one to be silent as he coaxed Grant to sit down inside the pack.

"Oh yeah. Had to make up for it by writing a bunch of essays or trying to say the whole Spanish alphabet without messing up."

Grant looked like he was going to make a fuss, Clint biting his bottom lip but easing down when Spider-Kid thankfully pulled out a sippy cup for the toddler to drink from. That zippers on each side of the back drew up but left a little room of a breathing hole for Grant, and Spider-Kid carefully pulled on the pack to his backside.

"Well, take care on the way." Sam said, giving a small wave. "Good luck on your homework.

"Thanks. Later guys."

And Spider-Kid was off, carrying away a most precious cargo as he went to the nearest balcony and started to climb his way down rather than jump off like he usually did. Clint's heart was racing, and he couldn't help but look over where Natasha was, still far away from the others. Her eyes meet his before turning away, and he felt so much disappointment. From not just to her, not just to Steve, but for himself as well.

Because the last couple weeks was a bloody reminder to him when he watched the two tykes, throwing the image in his face that he should have stayed home where his family was, where his children were. Laura tried to stop him, tell him that this fight didn't have to do with him anymore... but being the idiot that didn't learn anything new from his experience after Sokovia, when he heard Steve needed help and that Wanda was stuck in the Avengers facility all he could think about was not doing his best back in the falling city.

("You didn't see that coming?")

And Laura had been right all along. Too afraid to lose people again, he lashed out and fought hard against people he shouldn't have. He said things, ugly things, to the man who didn't deserve that. Then he learned just how wrong some people he thought he could trust could twist things with friendly words and silent voices.

There was a lot he had to do to make up for his past transgressions. But he couldn't do it as a dead man. Clint really wasn't afraid to die, but it was the people that would be left behind that scared him.

What Tony was doing, fine, sure, he had a lot of rights to be angry as hell after that shit in the RAFT and that clusterfuck when they attacked him without reason, but the Tony Clint saw sometimes when the guy was going over his bow and arrows, the one who got back at Clint for his shitty pranks, and the one who tolerated Clint's taste in stupid movies...

That angry Tony wouldn't go so far as to kill them. That guy would have said something witty, told them personally to fuck off, and would turn away to try to move on with his life, building back whatever everyone had taken and wrecked from him.

So the least Clint could do, after everything, was help the guy who actually needed it. Because while Tony may have not said it, may not have asked for it, there was still the tingling sense that someone was crying out for help from the place that was beginning to fade and quiet. It was faint, and hard to see, but Clint and several others seemed to sense this the past week as it grew to new heights of worrying levels. Because where the darkness was where Tony once stood, all bright and chaotic with his inventions, bots, and holographs, and where the dying echo of sound was where Tony's science babble, boyish laughter, and witty humor had taken place once upon a time.

And that was why, once more, Clint was going to turn the other way and run towards the dark and follow the dying light and sound.

Because he was going to forget whatever reason made him angry and vicious, forget about feeling sorry for himself, and forget what messed up things he had done to Tony because somebody Clint knew needed serious saving since a certain idiot genius believed nobody was there to help him when he truly needed it.


	27. The Quiet Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretend nothing will snatch you up  
> Pretend nothing will see anything  
> Pretend nothing will go wrong  
> As long as you stay quiet, you can pretend

This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

When Peter sent a text message to Happy about needing help with something, he kept it vague and simple enough because he couldn't outright tell the guy in a phone that could be monitored that there was a evil fungus parasite slowly killing Happy's boss. The hardest part, however, was the waiting. He waited and waited for about five minutes before trying again with a little more urgency in his text that he needed to hear from the ex boxer really soon, preferably in the next thirty seconds.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Peter hissed as he glared at his phone. "Answer me."

"Sheeep!" Grant chirped cutely from somewhere on the floor of Peter's bedroom.

"Ship." Ned, Peter's best friend, tried to correct the toddler. "Say  _shiiip."_

"Sheeep!"

"Okay, I wanna be mad, but I really can't with him." Ned declared out loud, smiling at the tiny blond who picked small pieces of Lego in an attempt to mimic Ned in building Star War-based settings. It was a clumsy effort, but an adorable one. Hearing no response, the other teen looked up to the bed Peter was occupying and rolled his eyes when he saw the scrawny boy glaring down at his phone. "Dude? You still trying to call Happy? That guy is probably doing other important stuff."

"But what I need help with  _is_ important!" Peter hissed, dropping his phone on the bed and flopping backwards on the soft mattress.

"You need help with homework or something?" Ned asked, turning back to the toddler, making sure the kid didn't accidentally try to swallow a smaller piece (the box did warn that these things were for children ages five and up).

"No," Peter sighed, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. "It's something else."

A pause. The kind of halt that made Peter wince as he knew what else was coming up given that Ned knew where he was working his  _internship_ at.

"Is it... Avenger important?" Ned asked slowly, a dawn of awe and excitement climbing up in his tone.

"Ned..." Peter complained, not wanting to delve into the subject again.

Some other time, maybe he would have been excited because he was working closely with Iron Man and War Machine, but with all the things that were happening, with the tension and hostility he felt and saw with Mr. Stark and the others, it didn't seem all that exciting as Peter made it out to be. What was scary was that this evil Mr. Stark was going to hurt people, possibly kill them, and it scared him as much as that silver Iron Man suit did.

(It was like a mirror, the silver suit; it was like showing everyone their faults and ugliness while the suit was unseen, giving off the image of superiority and perfection. Iron Man wasn't like that. Iron Man would never make someone feel less than they were worth. Peter learned that from Iron Man.)

"Hey, how long are you suppose to babysit him, anyway?" Ned asked, chuckling when little Grant toddled in circles, finding new things for him to point at colorful posters with wonder and curiosity.

"Um, yeah, hold on." Peter excused himself, heading out the door and into the hallway into a bathroom.

No more texting, he was going to make a call. He was done waiting for answer. Pressing the contact number, Peter pressed the phone to his ear, sitting on the sealed toilet and waiting for the other line to pick up as it rang.

"Happy, Mr. Stark said I could turn to you when I can't get to him because he's busy, and I can't talk about what I need help with on the phone. So please answer the freaking phone!" the teen muttered in frustration into the phone.

**"Hello?"**

Peter stiffened up.

That was not Happy on the other line.

**"Hello? Mr, Hogan can't come to the phone at the moment."**

"Uh, who is this? I need to speak to Mr. Hogan, it's an emergency." Peter was not going to put his name out there in case it was some crook stealing Happy's phone and could possibly look up Peter's identity to come after him and—oh wait, they could be looking at his contact list where his freaking name was out there on the phone. Shit!

**"This is Potts speaking."**

... 

"Oh, thank God." Peter gasped, eyes looking up to the ceiling at this wonderful fortuitous opportunity given to him on a silver platter. "Ms. Potts, I-I'm Peter Parker! I work as an intern for Mr. Stark."

**"Mr. Parker, if you can please leave a message for me to relay to Mr. Hogan, I'm not—"**

"Wait, Ms. Potts! I need to ask you something!" Peter rushed, knowing he was coming off as some impatient rude person. "It's about Mr. Stark—"

**"Goodbye, Mr. Parker."**

She was going to hang up on him.

"He's gonna die!" was all he could blurt out as she ended the call.

Peter stared at his phone with wide eyes before slumping in defeat. So much for that good fortune in finally making contact with the one person who might know the mystery of how Mr. Stark got his suit to come to life. What was he going to tell Rhodey and Dr. Richards? They were being watched, just as he was, and little Grant was still in danger (everyone was). Mr. Stark had already taken off to India to find the AIM base, but before that he'd probably have to make nice with the Indian government to get the rescue operation underway. They all were living on a time limit, everyone implying that something was going to happen once Mr. Stark sets foot back on American soil.

And the one thing everyone had depended on him was coming up with empty hands.

This sucked. This seriously sucked. What he wanted in trying to help only put him further away from doing something helpful in this small yet grand task given to him by War Machine. So much for Spider-Man doing a goddamn thing—

**_riiiing~!_ **

Peter jerked at the trill of the phone, and he looked down to find it was Happy calling him back. Staring down at it with a dumb look plastered on his face (probably), he snapped into motion when it rang a second time.

"Hello!"

 **"What do you mean he's going to die?!"** Ms. Potts demanded from the other line.

"I can't say it on the phone, it's not safe!" Peter told her, already risking so much by saying that Mr. Stark was in danger of being killed. "I need you to meet me in person. Take Happy with you, he needs to know this, too."

**"Are you lying Mr. Parker? I swear there will be legal actions taken if this is some little joke to you!"**

"I'm not lying! Please, just come to New York as soon as possible. I can't speak to you on this phone."

**"It's a Stark phone isn't it?"**

"Yeah, and that's exactly why I can't talk to you with this." Peter explained before giving her an address for her to meet him. "Please hurry."

**"I'll be there in three hours."**

He ended the call, staring down at the bathroom floor at the surreal accomplishment of convincing a power CEO woman to meet a faceless nobody like him. No wait, he couldn't meet her as Peter Parker, he thought with wide eyes. Spider-Man had to go and do that stuff because this was Avengers-level of secrecy and importance.

Exiting the bathroom, he hurried to his room to find Grant sitting Ned's lap while watching some anime on the teen's personal laptop.

"Ned, I need you to do me a huge favor." the enhanced youth pleaded as he looked at Grant pointedly.

* * *

Pepper wasn't sure what she was doing, pulling up next to a Deli shop in Queens, New York.

Happy had not been pleased about the little scrap bothering him with meaningless things like reports of walking old ladies across streets, returning stolen bikes, and other little things as she learned the kid being the teen in red and blue back at the German airport recruited to stop the other Avengers who turned against their country. She had watched from afar, seeing Tony get torn apart by his old team and some strangers who wanted to pick a fight with him, and despite how disappointed she felt about Tony always focusing on his team rather than his own needs (her needs, too), she was heartbroken for him.

(She remembered how much this team meant to Tony. Like he found more people to stand with rather than stand alone in the sky.)

She visited Rhodey, bringing flowers to decorate his room as it was empty and full of silence outside of the machines. Tony had only visited Rhodey once when doctors had inspected the damage done to the Colonel, Vision looking over the bed with unreadable eyes before disappearing altogether. The guilt that hovered in the air was potent, and it wasn't just Vision who left behind the stench.

Not once had Tony called her. 

Not after Germany.

Not after the Baxter Building fire.

Not after the Tower had been surrounded by Quinjets (false alarm her ass).

Not after another airport attack.

And suddenly someone else was calling her for help, but it wasn't Tony.

(She was being pushed farther and farther away from him.)

"Do you need me to come with?" Happy asked from the front seat, meeting her eyes through the rear view mirror.

"That's alright." she declined, pushing the door open. "I'll be back."

She stepped out in impeccable but casual clothes, brushing a stray strand of strawberry blond from her face when some breeze blew by. She looked to the deli, trying to find the profile which matched the image Happy had shown hear hours earlier when she packed herself on a private jet to New York from California. Closing the door behind her, she stepped onto the sidewalk and searched for a youthful brown-haired teen with expressive dark eyes and still present baby fat cheeks most young teens had.

God, these enhanced individuals got younger and younger.

Still sign of the young man, she turned towards another direction when she paused at seeing something from the side of the building across the street from her.

A wall-crawling teen in red and blue, his white lenses wide as he frantically waved at her.

So much for going incognito. Tony ought to have this kid disciplined if the boy planned on joining the big leagues in but a few short years. Spotting an almost deserted space, she made her towards it, making sure that Peter Parker caught on. The masked youth thankfully caught on and followed her to the next block and into an isolated parking spot where she waited patiently as the young man leapt down to ground level.

"Hi, I, um, I'm sorry I had to bother you!" the boy stumbled, looking carefully around to see if there was any onlookers.

"You said Tony was dying?" she prompted.

"Do you have your phone on you?" he asked instead, his lenses widening.

"Yes," she said, pulling it out.

"Ah, get rid of it. Please. Like, put it in your purse and put it far away from here. We're lucky that this place doesn't have any CCTV sticking out here."

Pepper furrowed her brows in suspicion, not wanting to be out of reach from the thing that could save her life if this was something bad, but Happy was firm in saying the kid was harmless and was a goody two shoes. So unless she was a criminal or about to rob a bank, Spider-Man would not harm her.

She pushed her phone in the purse and pushed it under some random car, and Spider-Man led her a little farther away while keeping an eye on the car to make sure nobody would steal her belongings.

"Okay, now tell me what's going on." she demanded.

"Okay, there's something eating Mr. Stark's brain like Cordyceps eats ant brains, and it's because he was experimenting with this suit from two years ago." Peter said, fingers waving around expressively. "And Dr. Richards said he went to you—"

"What?!" she interrupted him, her face melting into aghast horror.

Of course she knew what the hell Cordyceps were. She had watched enough nature shows to see how terrifyingly devastating those things were to ant colonies when tiny spores entered into the exoskeletons of the small insects. She was only glad those things only effected insects (though there was a small fear that the fungi would one day evolve to catch mammals one day).

But suddenly, hearing this kid say it so casually that Tony had a killer fungus planted inside his brain, she could only imagine how this was killing him. Was this the reason why he doesn't call? Was this the reason why she didn't see him often?

(Why was it when the worse seems to loom over Tony, he never  _ever_ picks up the phone to say something to her?)

"Ms. Potts!" Peter was waving at her, trying to ease the heavy breathing. "Please listen to me, I need you to answer me this!"

She composed herself as best she could. She needed to think with a clear head rather than dissolve in some panicking headless chicken.

"Do you remember what Mr. Stark needed to see you for that time when he was making his new suit? He was experimenting on an alien mass that exploded in Missouri."

She tried to think back, she really did, but nothing really came to her. There was so many meetings, so many relief teams and charity events she and Tony had gone over and to because of the follow weeks after the attack in DC. The Missouri incident was a freaky incident, something she cringed because the public outcry the company faced, accused of some science experiment gone wrong, but they slowly cleaned it up and helped secure hundreds of funerals of grieving families who lose their loved ones to the incident. Homes and buildings rebuilt, the entire thing scrapped and burned to the ground until back to the main source.

"I can't think of anything," she shook her head. "So much had happened that it's all blurred together. And besides, he was always working on new suits. Always."

Even after he destroyed the last batch of suits from three years ago, she found herself waking up with cold sheets where his body no longer warmed her bed. She didn't need to ask JARVIS where Tony was.

(Down below, another sleepless night, building building building.)

Peter's shoulders slumped, head bowed in defeat. Pepper felt bad, wishing she had whatever answers he needed to know in order to help stop whatever was killing Tony from the inside. So much was happening to everyone and everything at once that it seemed there was no time to stop and rest.

"Why the Missouri incident?" she asked Peter.

"Dr. Richards that he heard from Black Widow that Mr. Stark was experimenting on it to become part of the suit. But he couldn't do much with it because it was dead."

Yes, Pepper remembered from the reports on the alien matter. The research team that were trying to identify it said that the alien mass acted like a network of nerves that were controlled from an unknown source. Like a giant brain sending signals. But whatever it was, it was dead and the alien mass was no more—

"Wait," she murmured to herself, looking at the tarmac on the ground as she carefully analyzed her thoughts and memories. "What kind of suit was it?"

"It's a silver suit that acts without voice commands or hand moves. If Mr. Stark wants to put on his suit, it'll climb on him." Peter answered. "That suit is part of the parasite. The parasite is using his brain to control it."

"And it wasn't working until recently?" Pepper confirmed, turning back to Peter.

"He suffered a head trauma. His neural inhibitor got smashed... so maybe that's why it's acting up."

She closed her eyes, realizing what the cause of all this was.

"I need you to do me a favor, Peter," Pepper faced the masked boy once more. "I need you to get Dr. Richards to meet me at NYC Health+ as soon as possible."

"Wait, do you know something?" Peter's figure seemed to straighten up with new found hope.

"Get Dr. Richards." Pepper ordered before turning away and grabbing her belongings to head back out and meet Happy who was waiting by the car with a sandwich in his hand.

Seeing her hurried approach, the bigger man strode around the car and opened the door for her.

"Happy, make a trip to the Queens hospital center." 

She looked down at her arm, watching her veins give a faint orange glow beneath her skin. All the while as they made their way to the hospital, she made sure to keep her phone deep inside her purse, not trusting it after the great care Peter took to make sure they were out of its range.

If there was another thing she remembered about the fungus, it was that it made the host do things it wouldn't usually do, and given that it was an alien parasite, she would heed to the subtle warnings of staying away from cameras and computers and smart phones that could be used to spy and hear things that she didn't want relaying back to whoever was listening on the other line.

* * *

**TOWER**

FRIDAY noticed a few blips in her security screens. When she checked, there no sign other than occasional guard passing through. It happened a few times, and every time she looked there was still nothing to be seen or shown.

It had only been eight hours after her boss left alongside King T'Challa and Vision on their mission to retrieve the young Jason, and she could see from a security camera that boss was hanging alone in the furthest corner away from his majesty and Vision. She couldn't read the Black Panther, but something about his profile told her that he seemed anxious. And wouldn't anyone be anxious to know they were sitting close to someone who they knew was being controlled by a hostile entity?

Colonel Rhodes had gone with Everett for an evening lunch—outside of the Tower. A perfect opportunity for them to sit down and discuss what in the world was happening without FRIDAY's presence. She also had to make sure to keep using old feeds in her cameras to give the false pretense that little Grant was still inside the Tower rather than staying out of sight in a small apartment in Queens where she knew Peter was taking great care of the little boy with the best of his abilities.

Another blip.

FRIDAY needed to look into this because something was not right with her cameras.

...

No alarms.

Quiet.

A soldier looked up from the security tablet in his hand and nodded at his companion.

The other man then turned back to the others.

Wanda Maximoff was twitching and shaking from the floor, small strings of tasers connected to her chest while the two super soldiers remained in their frozen spots given that there was a third man aiming two guns at each of their heads in warning. Steve Rogers glared viciously at the one holding a taser gun on the young woman, but kept his mouth shut. Bucky Barnes, however, glared menacingly however, already knowing who they were despite the tactical gear they've stolen in order to blend in. They had to get moving, and quickly too, for they only had a short amount of time in their hands in order for AIM to receive two more test subjects.

Nice and quiet.


	28. Nursery Rhyme Edition: You are my Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's (always) sunny in small parts of the world.
> 
> (Surprise! Still alive here!)

Everett was looking at them all like they were zombies: expression skeptical before verging on the edge of hysterical.

Being the paranoid bunch that they were, Everett found himself holed up inside an empty hospital locker room alongside Rhodey, Stark Industries's CEO Pepper Potts, the Chief of Security Happy Hogan, Tony's new sidekick Reed Richards, and the Spider-Brat ("It's Spider - _MAN_!"). Just when he thought things were already bad enough, with the revelation of a mole hidden somewhere in the Taskforce ranks, Tony having blackmailed Ross with threats of violence to his  _innocent daughter_ , and actual death threats to Steve Rogers and fellow collaborators, the last thing Everett wanted to hear was more bad fucking news.

But life seemed happy to spit in his face.

"Excuse me? You telling me that this Extremis bullshit, that same serum CEO of AIM Killian and Dr. Hansen created, the one that made a lot of people literally go  _boom_ , is active within Potts?" Everett demanded, not giving a fuck that he was rudely pointing at the strawberry-haired woman. "What the hell were you people thinking?!"

"Tony—"

"Of course!" Everett hissed vehemently. "Of fucking course!"

"It's not his fault," Pepper said, voice like glaciers. "Once the serum was injected, there was no chance he could erase it completely. He's not an expert in bio-engineering and he didn't trust anyone to use this chance to take a sample and escape, so he did the best he could to make sure that this would not hurt me... or anyone for that matter."

Happy, who was guarding the door and peeking through the closed window blinds, seemed to pale at the mention of the incident. No doubt remembering how close he came to kicking the bucket when he had confronted one Extremis carrier and survived the explosion from another unstable victim.

"So when he was looking into that case with the Missouri Incident, he went to you to extract a sample of your serum." Richards spoke as he looked carefully at the blood sample a nurse had drawn earlier for Pepper. "And he used it to combine with the alien matter to create the suit, injection a small dose into himself after he went through careful trials."

"Clearly not careful enough." Everett bit out.

"But it had been a failed experiment." Pepper shook her head. "Why did the suit respond all of a sudden?"

"Because Team Asscaps, that's why." Rhodey glowered.

"That, and this parasite was remarkably cognitive to know that there was no way to overpower its host," Richards explained. "But after the head trauma Stark suffered, and the neural inhibitors being destroyed, the parasite started to make itself home."

"What was in the neural inhibitors?" Pepper asked, perking up at the mention of them.

"Small doses of Extremis that weren't strong enough to linger and were immediately destroyed by the parasite." Richards replied, pulling away from the microscope. "In fact, now that I think about it, there's barely any traces of Extremis left in the suit."

"Extremis was used to bring it to life." the Spider-Kid pointed out. "So maybe it didn't need it anymore."

Richards look at the blood samples with contemplative eyes. "Maybe...?"

"Doctor?" Everett prompted.

"I need to borrow a lab, preferably one where there's less security and cameras for me to work." Richards looked to Pepper with consent. "Ms. Potts, if it's alright with you, I need you to come along with me."

"Yes, of course."

"You got a plan?" Rhodey asked, heart fluttering tightly, betraying his foul mood with the lingering hope rising inside him. Beside him, Pepper was standing straight with eyes wide, her perfect manicured hands threatening to cut into her skin with how tight her fingers folded together. Happy looked like he was either gonna hug the scientist or punch his lights out at the idea of Tony getting hurt.

"It's an idea, a long shot really," Richards licked his lips as he gathered the materials to push inside his satchel. "But I got an idea."

"I'm counting on you, man." Rhodey stressed out. "This is my best friend. My little stupid-ass  _brother_."

"I know." Richards exhaled shakily, eyes meeting Rhodey's. "I'm not gonna half-ass on this one. Not on Tony's life."

God, Rhodey thought with the faint echoes of heartache and despair, why had Reed Richards only grace his presence to Tony after everything went to shit for the poor bastard? Early or late, whatever the case, Rhodey was so goddamn glad that Tony wasn't all alone in this bullshit.

The Spider-Brat awkwardly waved his arms. "This is the plan, right? We, uh, what do  _we_ do?"

"Just keep looking after Grant," Richards told him, gesturing for Happy to lead the way with Pepper standing up to follow him. "You're on standby."

"Oh, right." the teen seemed to deflate.

"Hey," Rhodey called for the masked boy's attention. "I know what's going on in that head of yours: you? Stuck babysitting? This ain't what you signed up for. But that kid really needs you right now.  _I_ need you.  _Everyone_ is counting on you to protect Grant."

The teen's shoulders slumped. "Am I... protecting him from Mr. Stark?"

Rhodey really didn't want to answer that.

"We have to go." Everett, thank God, cuts their talk short. "If what you say is true, Stark'll start to get suspicious than he already is the longer we remain out of his sight."

"No, I'm willing to bet he's already on to us." Pepper interjected, her ominous words casting a shadow on their already dire situation.

"Take care of Grant, kid." Rhodey once more urged to the masked teen.

"I, I know." 

"Now c'mon, we gotta go."

Ignoring the curious stares from the nurses, doctors, and patients of the hospital, everyone, sans the Spider-Kid, gathered their things (their phones and other electronic devices absent to lessen the chance of being overheard by what everyone feared to be a technological overlord named Tony Stark) and went their own ways.

It was still a hard pill for Everett to swallow, finding it incredibly ridiculous at the idea of some malevolent entity worming itself into Tony Stark's brain to slowly gain control of the man... Yet at the same time, with the way Stark seemed to unravel everything he had been working day and night to achieve, only to dash it away when he threatened Secretary Ross and his daughter, torturing and executed the AIM prisoners while blatantly ignoring proper interrogation protocols, and proposing to eliminate the rogue faction Old Testament style, Everett suddenly didn't find all that hard to believe.

If he was being honest about his job, he'd take fighting a space overlord any day over this bullshit.

* * *

**ELSEWHERE, NEW YORK HARBOR**

It had been five hours since the team was sent to retrieve their targets. All the while the rest of them were securing the grounds, keeping stragglers, drug dealers, arm dealers, and other people clear of the area. They could only hold the area for a time before people started getting suspicious and there was patrol cars sniffing around the streets near them.

That or some asshole in a red suit showed up. Worse, a bigger asshole with bigger guns came in with guns blazing.

"They sure like taking their time." one complained to his partner.

"No shit." the other scoffed at the first. "It ain't suppose to be easy bagging a couple of super soldiers, moron."

The first hired arms gave the other man a warning look but was interrupted when an unmarked van made its presence known. Headlights on, illuminating the abandoned scene that was littered with AIM agents and other hired gunmen, they all watched warily with their fingers brushing against the trigger. Once the van came to a halt, the driver and passengers doors opened up to reveal three agents, all still wearing Taskforce uniforms with their weapons at their sides.

"I know it's a little early for you guys but shit do I got you all the best Christmas gift ever!" the driver cheerfully announced as he moved to the back of the van.

Most of the agents and gunmen couldn't help but raise a brow at the behavior of the driver, but that was probably considered a good sign if it meant the mission turned out to be a success. Following after the driver, along with two other guised Taskforce soldiers, they all made to the back where the driver finally finished unlocking the paddock of the rear and opened it to reveal what was inside.

Captain America and the Winter Soldier, both of them shackled together in enforced cuffs magnetically connected to the equally enforced insides of the van. Other soldiers sitting on the built in benches, all guns trained on the soldiers.

"I thought they were gonna be a handful." an agent prodded at the magnetic cuffs that trapped the Captain's legs to keep him and his partner from kicking.

"Yeah, that AI was a bit of a bitch to handle," the driver nodded as he climbed in to the back and gave a playful, if condescending, pat on Steve Rogers head. "But these two barely put up a fight. Should've seen 'em, the way this one easily folded when I pointed a barrel at the Witch's face."

"Yeah," the agent huffed in amusement. "Funny as hell to see how easily these guys fall apart."

Having enough of the talk, the agent gestured for other agents to step in.

"We've got a ride waiting for us at a private hangar. Keep close and don't hesitate to shoot these two fucks if they so much as move the wrong muscle, even if they are high up on drugs." the agent instructed the others.

"Where we headed?" the driver asked, curious.

"Back to HQ."

"Sweet."

The driver gave one last pat on Rogers' head, ignoring the glaring blue eyes that trailed after him as he hopped down and headed to the driver seat. The agent stared at the driver with one quirked eyebrow.

Weird guy.

But, the agent supposed, anybody who had caught notorious figures like these two under the very nose of a divided group who were too busy tearing each other apart would have a skip in their step. 

Weird guy or not, he and the rest of the team carefully extracted the two super soldiers, the most worthy test subjects any organization would kill to get their hands on. They had to be quick and clearing the city before security within the Tower would notice that something was amiss. The agent pulled up his radio, adjusting the channel before giving quick orders to the other team who secured a jet for their use.

"Keep the perimeter secured. We're delivering the package." 

The agent joined the driver in the truck, giving him coordinates to where to find the team awaiting their arrival.

"Let's move out."

* * *

**NYU LANGONE MEDICAL CENTER**

Pepper watched anxiously as Richards scurried back and forth between stations, his white lab coat trailing after the scientist like something out of a scene of a mad doctor's laboratory. Watching him move so frantically made her feel fidgety and wanting to do something, but without her phone and Richards clearly in deep concentration of what he was looking into, she forced herself to sit still.

With better equipment than what the hospital provided earlier that day, Pepper was able to watch from the sidelines through the computer monitors that her Extremis blood samples and that of the alien matter Tony had to his suit were in full view for her eyes only (Richards was allowed to borrow an empty lab for his use only, it only helped that Pepper was standing next to him). The contrast between the two monitors keeping track of the two samples was like comparing it to the moon and sun. The Extremis inside her blood burned brightly like embers, casting a faint glow of gold to the area closest to the screen. Meanwhile, the alien matter appeared like a a swarm of alien maggots, constantly shifting in a manner that made Pepper feel sick in the stomach that she avoided watching it altogether.

The hours of experimenting between the samples was tedious and the urgency of the situation grew to the point that Pepper felt like she was going to explode (the pun was not funny, not in this situation). She forced herself to close her eyes, inhale deeply before letting out a long exhale to calm her frantic heart. Panic never helped anyone, and it certainty would not help Tony if all she did was breath down Richard's back because that was more likely to create mistakes in his effort to find a cure than fix whatever mess Tony unwittingly got himself into.

"Oh."

She snapped in attention like a hound catching a whiff of something.

"What is it?" she immediately demanded, getting up from her chair next to an empty workbench to stride over the workstation Richards was occupying.

"Take a look." he motioned to the computer monitor recording his work. 

Dipping one Q-tip into the dish that had the alien matter, he then placed it inside the plate where her blood was.

The maggot-like parasite at first started to engulf the Extremis dish, its milky white ink moving to blight out the sun and overtake everything (like it did with her friend, her Tony). This was what corruption looked like, Pepper thought with a heavy heart, this is exactly what it looked like when Tony was taken away from the people who loved him the most (because fuck the Avengers, fuck the hateful world, Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper were there first for Tony).

Before her hope could be vanquished, something sparked on the screen.

Extremis refused to bow down to the alien parasite.

She watched her blood scorch the parasite into nothing, erasing it's existence, chasing after it when it tried to flee from annihilation. Something insider Pepper lifted up the shadows in her heart and eyes, something that was dying and wilting away bloomed like newfound spring and strength, something inside her was coming back to life like it hadn't since watched her world fall apart over the last few years.

It was like watching the sun rise for the first time, promising her something that could not be put to words but somehow conveying to her hope was coming beyond the dark horizon.

"Dr. Richards?" she heard her voice speak, barely remembering why she was talking in the first place as she dared not remove her eyes from the monitor.

"Extremis had exothermic properties in the original formula, and Stark was able to reduce it into stable levels for you," Richards began as he looked between the two monitors. "Those inhibitors he had were from your blood samples that had strong concentration of heat that would keep the parasite in check from invading his mind."

"If the experiment had failed him, why didn't he have it removed?" Pepper asked, still confused why Tony would take such a risk.

"A lot of things happened the past year." Richards replied.

Sokovia, the Avengers, her leaving, the Accords, the team divided, the world divided, everyone standing alone than together. So much has happened that she didn't even know where to begin.

"When all else fails," Richards pulled up the dish of her blood. "Kill it with fire."

She could easily agree with that simple solution, but they couldn't relax now.

Their work was only starting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, life has been hell! I know the chapter was short, but let's hope the next update won't take another half year hibernation! In other news: the climax of this evil!Tony are is coming to a close, be prepared for the next chapters my readers!


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